Like a Shot from the Dark
by GoddessofDawn7843
Summary: (Inquisition Re-imagined) Instead of falling out of the Rift, Ellana Lavellan ends up in the company of the people responsible for the destruction at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. As a result, the fate of Survivor of the Breach, and that of the Inquisition itself, plays out very differently...
1. Chapter 1

**Summary** : (Inquisition Re-imagined) Instead of falling out of the Rift in Haven, Ellana Lavellan ends up in the company of the people responsible for the destruction at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. As a result, the fate of Survivor of the Breach, and that of the Inquisition itself, plays out very differently...

 **A/N** : This idea came to me when I was busy tinting my Inquisitor's armour, and I thought to myself how cool my elf would look in all-black. One thing lead to another, and here we are!

The whole story is based on the assumption that the Inquisition never found the Herald - most of it is made up by yours truly, but I am working on my own logical conclusions of how things would have played out if the To-Be Inquisitor didn't tumble out of the Fade exactly where the soldiers found them.

In a nutshell, I'm gonna be taking a few **wild** guesses, but then again, this _is_ what FanFiction is for, no? Also, this chapter and the next was supposed to be one thing, but I decided to break it up because, A, the length, and B, because the real cannon divergence begins in the next chapter.

I already have about 4 chapters written, but I'm only going to post the next one once I've finished writing the one I'm busy with now. I will post the second chapter along with this one in a day or so, though.

 **Disclaimer** : EA and Bioware are the people you're looking for.

* * *

 **Like a Shot from the Dark**

* * *

 **-ONE-  
** _Crack and Break, Twist and Tear_

* * *

 _"I've been stumbling around between the lines of red and blue,  
I was colouring thoughts for the sake of finding truth,  
Was following rules, counting all of my good deeds -  
Living in fear, hell at my feet, heaven is out of reach.  
And there's a fire that I once laid/There's a fire but no fire brigade."_

 _"Help our souls tonight/We are losing, losing this fight,  
Help our souls tonight/Is there no one on our side?  
Who's gonna help our souls tonight? No one here to/Help our souls tonight,  
It's on me, it's on you/To survive."_  
\- **Nihilis** , _Help Our Souls_ Lyrics

* * *

 _ **The Herald**_

* * *

 _She woke up to an alien sky, alone and in the dark. There was a sound almost like a whisper and an unnatural chitter on the non-existent wind, but it was only the passing shadow out of the corner of her eye that stirred her from somewhere between dreams and consciousness._

 _Sprawled out on her front and dazed, when she raised her head, she winced at the blinding, golden light she found above. At first she mistook it for the sun until her senses caught up with her, and every hair on the back of her neck stood on end._

 _For a moment, as her mind raced, there was nothing but pure naked fear - fear and the sudden, overwhelming need to see blue sky and green, growing things. The desolate landscape around her stretched out into an unknown, murky horizon, broken only by the jagged shapes of mountains in the distance and the shadows from before flickered in the murk._

 _Before she could give this the thought it deserved, there was a stabbing pain and a green light that shined underneath her glove. Once she managed to pick herself up and get onto her knees, she gritted her teeth as tight leather slid over the tender skin there, revealing a glowing, vein-like pattern on the heel of her palm._

 _Bewildered yet strangely captivated, when she tried to trace the shape there she yanked her other hand away with a hiss of pain, the sensation similar to being electrocuted._

 _Despite her burning nerves, however, when she happened to look up, the distinct tangible outline of a person caught her full, undivided attention._

 _With some effort, she picked herself up off the ground, intending to go to it but froze when that ominous, tingling sensation of being watched brushed against her senses._

 _She turned her head and caught a movement in the murk. At first she tried to fool herself that it was a trick of the limited light until the shape darkened and loomed. When it was close enough to make out multiple back eyes and fangs the length of her forearm, she ignored the pain in her hand and the stiffness in her legs, turned and ran._

 _She stumbled over uneven, rocky terrain, nearly falling to the ground in her urgency. From above, she heard a voice shouting at her to climb, urging her up and onward and to please hurry, hurry, hurry._

 _She scaled the steep surface faster than she thought herself possible, her heart thundering in her ears, drowning out the frenzied chittering of things at her heel._

 _She saw a hand outstretched for her to take, and when she was close enough, she reached out-_

 _Her fingers brushed against withered skin, but just as she tried to take it, something latched onto her leg, and with a single sickening lurch, air rushed by her ears as she fell._

 _She heard screaming, but whether it was her own or the voice was uncertain before her hand lit up with another bright green burst-_

* * *

-she hits the ground with an audible _thud_ , the air knocked straight from her lungs. She's not dead, she's sure of that much; it would have hurt less if she was.

She opens her eyes and there's a terrible moment where she looks up and thinks she's still in the Other Place until she notices swatches of blue among the green slashes in the sky.

She manages to turn on her side, gritting her teeth when her knee grazes against the harsh stone surface when she shifts her leg just so. She splays her unmarked hand across the ground, nail digging into the granite, but when she tries to push herself up, her arm gives out and she crumbles.

She hears the sound of heavy, armoured footsteps approach her from the side before exhaustion takes her and the world goes black again.

* * *

 _ **The Mind**_

* * *

Standing in the shadow of the trees, he watches the evacuation efforts in Haven from a safe distance, partially hidden from view amongst the branches. He can hear guards shouting over the sound of villagers trying to coax stubborn plough horses into pulling overloaded wagons, the panic and fear as obvious as the massive tear in the sky.

He frowns, letting apprehension coil in the middle of his chest for a moment before drawing the hood lower around his face and steps forward, out of the cover of the tree line.

None of the soldiers he passes seem to notice him, or if they do, they barely look at anything other than the staff on his back. He doubts this will stay that way forever, however, and is proven right the moment he arrives at the gate leading into the village.

The soldiers standing guard draw their weapons, regarding him with open suspicion.

"Identify yourself, mage."

They don't attack on sight. Interesting.

He holds up his hands as not to startle them. "My name is Solas." He says calmly, carefully removing his staff before holding it out for the men to take. "And I believe I can help."

* * *

Once they confiscate both his staff and his pack, the soldiers lead him to the Chantry building at the heart of the village. The inside is crowded, more than a dozen soldiers and hooded agents standing around a large table as a formidable-looking dark-haired woman, the apparent leader, stood coordinating their efforts and barking out orders in equal measure.

"What of the mountain pass to the east?" she demands, sharp eyes not leaving the map spread out over the table's surface.

"Charter's report came in." A grim-faced scout says.

"And?"

"She spotted several dozen shades in the immediate area - the report also mentions she might have seen a handful of rage demons moving along the main road as well."

Solas watches as the woman exhales heavily, leaning against the table as she pinches the bridge of her nose.

"...Seeker Pentaghast?"

Her jaw clenches, and with another sharp breath, she straightens up and looks the scout in the eyes, visibly startling him with the intensity. "Speak with Commander Cullen, see if he's able to spare extra soldiers to guard the villagers. If he cannot, request that Leliana lend some of her people to offer a distraction."

The scout nods hastily before bowing out and leaves with three soldiers at his flank.

When the soldiers escorting him approaches the woman, they salute before the one on Solas's left speaks up, "My lady, this mage approached the camp a short while ago - he says he has skills that may help close the Breach."

She turns her head and arches a brow once her eyes fall on him. Despite himself, something inside flinches and shrinks as those piercing eyes stare right through him.

The woman then steps away from the table before dismissing the soldiers with a firm wave of the hand. "Leave us."

The men do as she says, but just as they're alone, there's a flash of steel and quicker than Solas can comprehend, she has her sword levelled at his throat.

"You took a great risk coming here right now, Apostate." She says in a low voice, her grip firm around the hilt of the blade.

Somehow, he manages to keep his cool and his voice steady as he answers her, "I would think current circumstances demand taking such risks."

"Perhaps... but what makes you think you can be of any use to me?"

"Because I sense your patience is limited, I'll be blunt - I have more knowledge and experience of the Fade and matters pertaining to the Veil than anyone currently alive."

"A bold claim. How can you be so sure of that?"

"Because I am." Then, after moment and unflinchingly even in his current position, "You also have no other real options open to you at this point. And regardless of outwards appearances, I do wish to lend my assistance wherever I can."

She narrows her eyes. "Why?"

"Because I fear what is happening. This world is in more danger than any of you can comprehend. If something is not done to stop the damage from spreading, the Dream and the Waking Realm will merge into one, and I would rather that not come to pass in such a manner."

She looks at him for a long while, and after that, there's a fraction of a second where Solas notices how the tension leaves her shoulders.

"Very well," she says, and he feels the very tip of the blade ghost against his throat. "But let me make myself perfectly clear - if you are lying, if this turns out to be a trick of some kind, I will kill you." It isn't a threat, merely a statement of the fact delivered in a flat voice that betrays her weariness.

His mouth is a thin, downwards line but he nods anyway. "Understood."

With that, the woman withdraws her sword and sheaths it with a single, fluid motion. "My name is Cassandra Pentaghast, and I am a seeker of the Chantry."

"And I am Solas."

She gives him a curt nod of her own before some of the pretence falls away. "The mages we've consulted already tells us the Veil has been torn open - is this true?"

"Yes."

" _How_?"

"Smaller tears occur naturally in areas where the Veil is thin... but in this particular case, the Breach seems to have been created deliberately through the means of a singular, powerful burst of magical energy."

"The explosion at the Temple." She says quietly, and then, grimly, "Is there a way to close it?"

"Possibly..." He says slowly. "Our only hope would be to find the source - the artifact that created the initial rupture."

"Artifact?"

"One would assume so. My journeys into the Fade have showed me that similar magical devices have been used to likewise effect in the past."

"I... see. How accurate were these... dreams?"

" _Very_ accurate."

Before Cassandra can say anything else, the door opens and the blonde head of a dwarf appears through the crack.

"Hey, Seeker?" he drawls.

Cassandra looks vaguely annoyed by the interruption. "What is it, Varric?"

"Yeah... the Nightingale wants you out here. Shit just got weird again."

* * *

 _ **The Believer**_

* * *

Cassandra finds out the hard way that Varric wasn't so much lying as what he was downplaying the current situation - "Shit just got weird," was an understatement if ever there was one.

Stepping outside, the first thing she sees is the crowd gathered in front of and around the Chantry, and is a mixture of soldiers, agents and the remaining clergy and villagers alike. They have their backs turned, and their eyes fixed on the same thing, awe, fear and disbelief written clearly across their faces.

She doesn't have to wonder why for long, as the moment she looks up, she feels the breath catch in her throat.

The sight of the Breach suspended in time is both utterly spectacular and absolutely terrifying.

There's a scream and a collected gasp amongst the people as, all of a sudden, reality seems to speed up double and a single shot of energy surges up, up and into the very Fade itself before the sky around it lights up.

There's a blinding flash, but she doesn't see the sudden change in the air so much as _feel_ it.

Profound and electrifying, her skin prickles and her nerves thrum in her ears like an echo several long seconds afterwards. She's isn't sure at first, not immediately anyway, but when she looks again, the Breach, while not gone, is knitted together, closed.

From her side, Solas takes a steps forward, the look on his face suggesting he's doing so unintentionally.

"Impossible..." she hears him whisper under his breath.

Oddly, all things considered, it strikes her then just how strange it is to see the elf speechless, but doesn't think of this any further when she hears her name over the din that erupts all of a sudden.

Cassandra's head snaps up in time to see Leliana pushing her way through the unruly masses towards her.

"What happened?" she demands once the other woman comes to stand next to her.

"I just received word that movement was spotted near the Temple." Leliana says, looking just as wide-eyed and bewildered as Cassandra herself felt.

"What-? Who?"

The spymaster grimaces. "That's what I've been trying to find out until... _that_ happened.."

Cassandra lets out a short breath of air she wasn't even aware she'd been holding until she looks up at the sky again and then back at Solas who was still standing there, transfixed.

She calls his name, but when he doesn't respond, she reaches up and grasps the elf's shoulder. It's more abrupt and definitely with more force than what she intends but the touch is enough to startle him out of his thoughts.

"What just happened?" She says, and the mage blinks at her. "The Breach, is it...?"

Apprehension flashes in dark blue eyes, but when it passes, he frowns. "No..." he says, quietly at first before, more loudly, "No, it's not sealed."

It isn't what she wants to know. "Then what are we looking at, Solas?"

"I don't know." At the incredulous look she gives him, he seems to regain his composure, and, calmly, "Unless I see the Breach up close for myself and study it, I will not be able to tell you what you wish to know, Seeker."

"I'm afraid we're going to have to wait for those answers," Leliana says abruptly, joining in the conversation. "The rifts along the path have made it difficult for my agents to get through, and even then, the reports are too far apart to be useful anymore. Until we have more information - anything to go on - it's too dangerous to set out on our own."

A part of Cassandra kicks against this, rejecting the idea while another surrenders to the common sense in the other woman's words.

Her inner-conflict must have shown, as Leliana's face softens for a moment and she reaches out to squeeze her arm. "It's for the best, Cassandra." She says finally, and disappears among the crowd.

* * *

For all her virtues, waiting never _was_ one of Cassandra's best qualities.

She's tempted on more than one occasion to order a march when the reports finally come back in. The information, though welcome, is limited and is vague enough to leave her frustrated.

Unsurprisingly, whoever had been at the Temple had gone without a trace by the time Leliana's agents reached the site of the explosion.

What stands out was, despite the evidence in and around the area that suggested a small group and the obvious signs of demons, there were no new dead bodies among the burnt, no signs of bloodshed. No artifact either, of course.

The news doesn't get better, however.

Varric is present when they announce they found glowing red crystal veins of what looked like lyrium and he takes a long draught from the flask he keeps on his hip.

The dwarf pushes the flask in her hands and she doesn't hesitate to do the same when Roderick sweeps into the Chantry moments later demanding answers she doesn't have. The not-inexpensive Antivan brandy and subsequent burn it leaves sliding down her throat does its part to make herself feel better. Not much, but still.

The scandalized look on the Chancellor's face doesn't hurt either.

It really should have surprised her more when she interrupts the man's ranting by declaring the Inquisition, effectively breaking away from the Chantry and every belief she has about it.

It doesn't. Not at first, anyway, but she's self-aware enough to know it'll come back to haunt her at the least convenient moment.

Her words don't register until Roderick storms out and Varric whistles low under his breath.

Leliana goes on to point out just how much more difficult the situation's just become; as of now, they have no numbers, no formal alliances, and no means of sealing the Breach. Adding 'no Chantry support' just seems like hammering the final nail onto a ship doomed to sink.

The brandy doesn't go down any smoother the second time, but it does leave a pleasant warmth blossoming in the middle of her chest.

Varric nods his approval when she hands his flask back to him before looking between them, clipping it back onto his belt as he does.

When he casually states that he's staying, neither Cassandra nor Leliana tries to hide the surprise on their faces.

"What? You mean you're _not_ interested in knowing how Red Lyrium just _happened_ to show up in the middle of all this?" he says, shrugging. "I'll even have a few of my guys keep an eye out too if you can't spare any of your little birds on this, Nightingale."

Leliana nods, relief briefly flickering across her face. "I'd appreciate it if you did."

Cassandra, for her part, isn't wholly convinced by this. "I would have thought you'd be the first to leave now that you're no longer obligated to stay."

"Oh, I'll probably sneak out in the middle of the night if things get _really_ bad... but right now? Sure, why not? It's not like I've got anything better to do. Besides," he states with a casual, dismissive gesture of the hand as he leaves, "if I left you humans on your own, everything's just going to start blowing up... _again_."

Grudgingly as it is, she can't fault the dwarf's logic.

As for her urge to punch him... Well, she'd work on that too.

* * *

Later, at Leliana's suggestion, she goes out to track Solas down. She finds him amongst the abandoned huts at the far side of the village, looking up at the partially sealed Breach with an inscrutable look on his face, and goes to stand next to him.

"Seeker." He says quietly, acknowledging her presence with a curt nod and a brief sideways glance.

Cassandra nods back and they stand there in the dark. "I admit," she says slowly, "I'm surprised that you're still here."

His mouth twitches but there's little else in way of a reaction from the elf. "I assure you, your surprise is only outmatched by my own."

"The immediate danger is over." She points out, gauging his blank expression carefully.

He turns his head to look at her directly now. "Is it?"

She doesn't answer him.

"Are you going to ask me to leave?" he asks after a while.

"No." Solas raises an eyebrow at this, and even Cassandra herself is stunned by the fact that she means this sincerely. "As Sister Leliana and the others have repeatedly told me over the last few hours, our situation is dire even with the Breach as it is. And like you said yourself, I'm in no position to turn away those who would want to help."

"Can you look past what I am?"

"I have no quarrel with mages, only those who seek to use their power at the expense of others."

This seemed to be the right thing to say, and Solas nods. "Then you and I are in agreement."

There isn't anything left to say after that until she turns to leave again. "...You should know that that it's only going to get worse, Cassandra."

She looks over her shoulder. "Is that your personal opinion on the matter, Solas?"

"Am I wrong?"

Cassandra smiles humourlessly. "No, but I can hope you are."

If the elf says anything else as she leaves, she doesn't hear it.

* * *

 _ **The Storyteller**_

* * *

The days that follow are chaotic and frenzied and pass quicker than Varric anticipates or appreciates.

He's tempted on more than one occasion to discreetly pack the few things he'd brought with him and sneak out of the camp like a thief in the night.

But, between the Seeker watching him like a hawk and the Nightingales' little birds (and, yes, he's aware of the many, _many_ avian references), he knows the chances of leaving are slim-to-none with a fun added bonus of stabbing on the side.

Still, it could be... No, nope. Never mind - that line of thought had 'sucker bet' written all over it.

He made a point to bug Leliana for frequent updates about the state of things, and while the immediately danger being over (for now...), the mystery around specifics (the 'how', 'why' and 'who do I need to shoot' being Varric's personal favourites) and demons literally pouring out everywhere... there isn't exactly a ton of people lining up outside Haven's gates to join up.

Apparently, a lot of doubt from the masses came with establishing an Inquisition. Who knew?

To make things worse, no one seemed to _want_ to play nice - the Templars were still assholes, the mages were still weird, and the Chantry, bless them, still called them heretics and crazy people (both, while technically true, still rude).

On the plus side, the Nightingale found out about a Chantry Mother in the heart of the Fereldan Hinterlands who'd be willing to help smooth a few things over. It was a long shot, and one that dragged Varric out into the middle of nowhere.

Long shot or not, however, they didn't had a lot going for them.

It isn't easy - there's too many rifts and not too many detours to avoid said rifts for that - but when they eventually make it to the Crossroads, fighting rogue templars and mages is a nice change. Mother Gisele isn't what he expects either, and despite how soft-spoken the older woman is, she's blunt to a T and has a will of solid steel Varric could respect.

It didn't mean she didn't intimidate him - which she did.

Which brings the dwarf to his present predicament...

It's the night before they return to Haven - Cassandra's busy talking shop with the Corporal in charge of coordinating the Inquisition's efforts in the area, and Solas wandered off several hours ago to go to sleep... or something.

The Chantry Mother caught him trying not to draw any attention to himself, which of course only drew her over to sit next to him by the campfire.

If she notices the sudden tension in his shoulders, she doesn't comment on it at first.

They sit like this until Varric begins to fidget and he clears his throat. "Something I can help with?"

She smiles - it's friendly enough but he can't quite keep from cringing a little internally, feeling like he'd done something wrong.

"I was actually about to ask you the same thing, Master Tethras."

Crap. She knew his name - never a good sign if it came from religious officials... "How's that?" he asks, staring into the fire.

"From what Lady Cassandra has told me, she noted that your silence may not be normal behaviour."

He snorts. "You and the Seeker make a habit of discussing me? And here I thought she didn't care."

"It's not concern, exactly, but she does have the impression that something is troubling you."

"You mean aside from the obvious?" At the curious look he got, he grimaced.

She hesitates for a minute. "I... do not wish to intrude, but if I could offer my assistance? I suspect that is why I was asked to come speak with you."

"Depends," he allows. "You got an answer for why all this... _stuff_ is happening?"

"I see." She says quietly. "If I may..." When he nods, "Perhaps, all things considered, this is the Maker's way of testing our resolve? Our ability to endure?"

Varric frowns. "Yeah, I don't buy that."

"Then what do you believe? Do you not trust Lady Cassandra?"

"This isn't about trust. Anyone with eyes can see Cassandra and Leliana - two of the scariest women alive, by the way - are giving their all to make this Inquisition work. Anyway, I've known Cullen long enough to know he isn't just going to sit around doing nothing, and even if I don't really know Josephine all that well, she already scares the ever-living crap out of me."

She blinks in surprise. "I only know Lady Montilyet through reputation - I always had the impression she was a very accommodating, capable woman."

"Exactly my point."

"In that case... may I ask what it _is_ that's bothering you so?"

"Honestly?" he says, watching at the Chantry Mother out of the corner of his eye. "From where I'm standing, it just looks like we've been doing an awful lot of running lately. And even with everything that's happened already, I've got this stupid, nagging voice in the back of my head that's telling me what we have now isn't going to be enough to beat whatever's coming our way."

Something, if possible, softens even more in the woman's eyes. "Many feel as you do."

"Good to know I'm not special, then." The sudden bitterness he hears in his own voice is enough to startle him and he looks down, brows furrowing. "Shit- I mean... sorry."

When Mother Gisele speaks again, she does so slowly, carefully, "Perhaps, if anything, all these hardships are meant to teach us how to hope. Hope is what we need the most."

"You think that's enough?"

She reaches out and lays her hand on his arm, smiling a little when he looks back at her.

"Is it not worth trying, at least?"

He doesn't have an answer for that - not one he'd say in front of polite company, anyway - and the night passes quickly after that.

* * *

 _ **The Mind**_

* * *

Between observing the rifts and Breach from a distance, fighting demons, rebels and the downright suicidal - and the ever-present, ever-growing headache that comes with it all - the weeks that follow pass in a blur.

In this time, Solas accompanies Cassandra to Val Royeaux in Orlais only to stand on the side with Varric as they watched the Seeker attempt to sway the Chantry.

It doesn't work out, and once the Templars show up, the thunderous look on the woman's face afterwards is enough to part the crowd that surrounds her.

The trip isn't all for naught however, and despite the Lord Seeker being a 'jackass' (Varric's words) and Fiona's ambiguity and unwillingness to make promises (understandable albeit inconvenient), an arrow with a message and an invitation with a First Enchanter's seal changes things.

For the most part, personally, Solas doubts Madame Vivienne's motives for joining. For all her talk of restoring order, righteous words conceal neither the ambition in her eyes nor the obvious contempt on her face. She's arrogant, but proficient enough in combat situations, however, and as much as he doesn't want to admit it, she is shrewd, intelligent and a powerful mage in her own right.

As for Sera, the 'Red Jenny'... although a talented elven archer, Sera shunned all things elven, feared magic to the point of ridiculousness, and didn't even think of herself as an elf - possibly even hated that about herself. A walking paradox by all rights... one that goes out of her way to be obnoxious - the lizards he keeps finding in his bedroll are proof enough of this.

It's not the Chantry support they need, but at least they don't leave Orlais empty-handed.

After returning to Haven, Solas doesn't go with Cassandra to the Storm Coast, but isn't too surprised when she returns two weeks later with a brand new mercenary company and a qunari spy in tow.

It's far, far past the point of surprise, anyway. He'd trust the Seeker's judgement on the matter, even if he doesn't believe the Iron Bull's intentions to help the Inquisition is as straightforward as the man claimed them to be.

When he asks her about the trip itself afterwards, she's tight-lipped about details but admits that the Grey Wardens had moved on and all but vanished.

Solas can tell Cassandra's more suspicious about this than she lets on, but leaves her to her own thoughts. Personally, he's never cared nor had any patience for the Wardens, but goes with her when she takes him on a return trip back to the Hinterlands in search for the lone recruiter.

They manage to track down Warden Blackwall at a cabin at the lake overlooking the crossroads. The man clearly isn't expecting Cassandra's approach as his entire posture changes and he then stalks over to her.

He doesn't, however, get a chance to speak, as the moment he opens his mouth, Cassandra's back suddenly stiffens before her hand shoots out and grabs his arm. Yanking it up, she levels the shield there just as an arrow strikes it dead in the middle.

When he realizes what just happened, the Warden stares at the Seeker with blatant astonishment before Cassandra disengages and arches a single eyebrow, challenge issued.

They fight. They win.

The Seeker then launches an interrogation and the Warden maintains a grim stoicism about himself. He doesn't have the answers they want, but he does go on to pledge himself to the Inquisition.

Compromise. Compromise. Compromise.

* * *

It's a week later, when he hears from Sera that Cassandra had been arguing with Leliana recently.

"The Seeker's keen on going after the Templars." The other elf says with a grimace on her face. They're in the tavern back in Haven (Varric insisted he be there), and while not as packed as usual, the commotion within is enough for them not to worry too much about being overheard.

Started by the news, Solas frowns, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. "You mean they've already decided?"

"Looks like," she says, squinting into her mug. "From what I could tell, Leliana tried to talk her out of it until Cullen got all huffy and jumped in... so, he's all up for it."

Bull makes a low sound of approval. "Can't say I don't disagree with the sentiment. With the way things are going, we could used the muscle."

Blackwall nods firmly. "Agreed. But now, what did the Ambassador say about it?"

The archer snorts. "I didn't stick around for the whole bloody conversation. But if I had to guess Josie-preen right, I's say she just told them to play nice and then ran off to draft letters and kiss babies for nobles or shite."

"Oh, be nice, Buttercup." Varric chides mildly, swirling the last of his ale before cringing his nose. "...I take it you don't like the Templars?"

"I'm not tickled about mages either, but it's not like there's a third option now, is it?"

The dwarf in their company smiles wryly. "Pretty sure we're the third option in this situation."

Sera snorts. "Exactly my point. Anyway, back to templars, from my experience the lot of them are a bunch of jackboots and tits."

"Maybe, but _well-armed_ ones." Bull points out with a shrug of his own.

Solas excuses himself shortly afterwards and happens to notice Cassandra as she made her way down the side path from the Chantry.

The woman looks vaguely annoyed, but even as his common sense tells him otherwise, he approaches her. Her expression clears only slightly when he's close enough and she nods in acknowledgement.

"Seeker," he begins, "a word?"

She must have read the look on his face and sighs. "I take it you've heard already." At his raised eyebrow, she smiles ruefully. "Sera wasn't subtle in her eavesdropping."

"So it's true then?" he says evenly.

"Yes. Josephine believes with enough noble support on our side, we may turn the Lord Seeker's gaze... If all goes well, he may pledge Templar as well as Seeker support to our cause." With that, she doesn't falter when she meets his eye. "I'm aware the decision isn't universally accepted, but a decision has been made nonetheless."

"You didn't go to see the mages."

"No." To the Seeker's credit, she doesn't offer any excuses.

He sighs. "May I ask how long it will take to gather these nobles?"

"With luck, we'll receive word the day after tomorrow."

"I see."

He doesn't waste his time with a goodbye, but when he turns to leave Cassandra speaks up and he could hear the frustration in her voice. "I'm _trying_ , Solas."

"I am aware of that, Lady Cassandra, and while you, Cullen and the rest would do better than most, it's not within my nature to blindly follow a path I do not agree with."

"Nor would I expect you to. But the fact is, enough templars could dampen the Breach."

"Theoretically." He corrects. " _Theoretically_ , it may also cause a number of different things to happen as well. All are decidedly pointless and very much conjecture on our part without the artifact."

"Then give me a solution."

"Very well. If you must proceed, don't do so blindly. Wait. Allow Leliana's agents to find what you need to close the Breach safely and most importantly, permanently."

"Time is against us."

"And haste is counterproductive in the grand scheme of things."

Her shoulders sag, but whether it's because she sees his point or not is unclear. "It's happening, Solas, regardless whether you and I are prepared for it or not. As it is, Templar support may inspire others to join us. More than that, the Seekers have always kept lore that may help us in the long run, and that is something we desperately need."

"In that case, there's nothing more for me to say that can sway you from your course."

"No, I suppose not... I would, however, have asked you to join me when we go to Therinfal. We could have used your talents."

"I'm sure Madame Vivienne would be more than capable in my stead."

Cassandra's smile is wry. "She did seem willing enough when I asked her earlier."

He turns, but pauses before leaving to look at her over his shoulder. "...I wish you luck regardless, Seeker."

She nods curtly and without any further ceremony, Solas walks away.

* * *

 **-To Be Continued-**

* * *

 **End Notes:** Onwards!

Reviews are appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N** : Actual action actually happening, people! Oh, and Cole's in this. I will never not love writing from Cole's perspective.

 **Please note:** As a warning, there is a not so-subtle implication of torture/abuse later in the chapter. it isn't very nice to write about (or talk about, or even think about really), but there is a reason for it.

 **Disclaimer** : Not mine, but, man, if only...

* * *

 **Like a Shot from the Dark**

* * *

 **-TWO-  
** _Ghosts and Echoes_

* * *

 _"Rise above, gonna start the war!  
Oh, what you want? What you need? What'd you come here for?  
Well, an eye for an eye and an 'F' for fight -  
They're talking me down as the prisoners riot/(Eh, yeah)."_

 _"I've got shackles on, my words are tied/Fear can make you compromise.  
With the lights turned up, it's hard to hide/Sometimes I want to disappear."  
_\- **Foster the People** , _Houdini_ Lyrics

* * *

 _ **The Spirit**_

* * *

He sees them approach before he starts hearing the whispers - they arrive in carriage and horses, several dozen of them, glittering, gilded, hearts prideful and greedy.

When they're close enough, dresses, hats, masks all glint under the weak grey sunlight so unlike their own, while the clamour - now very much audible - rings identical in a chorus of different voices.

Four stand out.

He blinks then sits up, listening, looking.

Hoping.

Cool, austere sharpness edged jagged with ambition but tempered with cunning and intelligence, past hurt turned to power - iron and solid steel beneath lace and silk.

Brute strength and tactician cunning, glass transparency and unfathomable depths as Reality and the Lie tether on a delicate line.

Gentle cynicism and fragile almost-hope, doubt clashing with stubbornness or desperation both, and a faint, faint longing for that what's just out of reach but so far away.

The last...

She stands tall though tired, so tired and yet so determined all the same, standing out like a lone flame flickering in the dark. Unbowed. Uncompromised.

Uncorrupted.

He notices. He knows he isn't the only one.

The thought as it is makes him shiver, like the cool, clawed tips of someone else's fingers running down his spine.

He doesn't hesitate to leave his vantage point at the ledge of the ramparts, intending to take a closer look... only to meet a steel wall when he does.

She doesn't see him, doesn't even blink when he goes to stand next to her. This doesn't happen often, and he's surprised enough that he stares after her for a moment when she moves deeper into the interior.

He watches her afterwards, stepping into her shadow.

He watches as she completes the test presented to her and raises Faith - always Faith - above all else.

He watches, still, as talks, as their plan, falls to ruin, shattering to pieces and bleed red, red, red...

She leaves, rage and righteous indignation almost downing out the Old Song that twists and taints, leaving the fallen captain alive but bleeding on the floor.

She fights and a rallies those still standing, tearing through horrors with familiar faces and ruined honour, eventually finding the man she's looking for but isn't.

Sharp claws reach out, fangs are bared - the air shifts and time seems to stand still-

She responds by thrusting her sword through the imposter's chest.

The blow is unexpected but isn't enough to kill it, and in that instant the mask falls and the facade crumbles, revealing what lurks beneath.

Stronger than Jealousy.

Pettier than Greed.

 _Envy_.

The demons stumbles back and shrieks, and the noise is enough to draw every eye that hears it.

What happens next is chaos, and he is torn between staying to help the men and women fighting to defend what's left, and going with her.

Those that remain, those not affected by the Red, do as she commands without question.

She fights without reservation, without fear, focusing on what's in front of her and succeeds in so much, but doesn't linger where it's important, where it's necessary.

Once the final, physical barrier is gone, she goes to confront Envy.

He doesn't go with her then, because at that exact moment, there's another inexplicable shift in the air only _different_.

He hangs back, again caught between following the woman that burns so bright and investigating the source of the sudden electric thrill that wracks down his spine.

Curiosity wins out in the end despite whatever apprehension he has for leaving, and he trails the lead that tugs at him so.

He retraces the step from before, avoiding but always aware of the blood and the death and the drawn-out gasps of the dying that marks the way down. The closer he gets, however, the less the outside pulls him as everything else seems to narrow into a single focus.

When he gets to the heart of it all, he's blinded by a bright green glare of light and a spike of genuine terror that ends with the audible _thud_ of an arrow finding its mark.

The body of the Knight Captain slums over, lifeless and bleeding out next to the body of the Orlesian Lord he'd cut down earlier, as the one who'd just brought him down lowers her bow.

A voice, not her own, echoes loud and malicious in its intent - _Failure will_ _ **not**_ _be tolerated_.

He's rooted where he stands, unable to look away and blinded.

If the woman from before was an open flame, the one standing in front of him is the sun.

He's able to make out the barest of details along broken fragments that create a clearer picture, as distorted as it might be:

 _A wild alive thing chained down by fear and pain-  
A bright, quick mind far from breaking but straining under the mounting pressure of knowledge that's not her own-  
Inherent kindness at war with the effect of cruel, cruel lashes and pitiless brutality; and an Old Voice that dominates, that corrupts and compels unwilling limbs forward-  
Love held hostage by threats dark and looming while memories of a time where it didn't hurt is drowned out by it now: It's for them, it's for them, it's __**all**_ _for them... but..._ _ **but**_ _-_

"Who are you?" He whispers.

Her head turns, and under a black hood, full, bloodless lips draw into a tight, apprehensive line before she turns and mangled fingers draws back, levelling an arrow to his heart.

She can see him.

Undeterred, he takes a step closer without thinking, and asks again, "Who are you?"

The arrow she releases is her answer.

* * *

 _ **The Believer**_

* * *

The demon's blow comes down heavily on Cassandra's shield, the force behind it enough to make the Seeker's teeth clench and her head spin from the effort as she's temporarily staggered.

When it screeches, she's only vaguely aware of the shouting behind her before a bolt strikes Envy just above its gaping mouth, dead in the centre of its eyeless head.

Out of the corner of her eye, Cassandra catches Varric reloading his crossbow, smug and crowing in satisfaction.

She doesn't have time to linger in the moment, as the next moment the demon is staggered itself as Bull flanks it bodily, all brute strength and a flash of steel when he brings his axe down.

Envy stumbles back but doesn't get very far when the blue glyph beneath its feet explodes and meter-long shards of ice impales its spindly body.

"Finish it!" Vivienne shouts hoarsely, the staff in her hands radiating with frost.

Cassandra recovers enough momentum to adjust her grip on her sword and shield, and with a lunge, drives her blade through its chest, leaving it there when it finally crumbles and falls.

The demon, however, isn't completely dead, and when she moves to recover her weapon, its spindly fingers shoots up and encases around her wrist. It's impaled, bloody body shakes, and it takes a horrible moment to understand it's laughing.

"The Elder One comes, Seeker."

She freezes. "What-?"

The crossbow bolt that embeds itself in the middle of Envy's head cuts off whatever it was about to say next.

The demon's grip around her wrist goes slack, and Cassandra shoots Varric a sharp look.

The dwarf merely shrugs as he puts Bianca away. "It was talking too much."

She sighs, scowling at the dead demon before retrieving her sword. "We should return to Ser Barris." She says grimly, sheathing it.

"No need." Vivienne says mildly. "They're here."

Cassandra turns to see the Knight in question, flanked by several of the Order, coming down the steps to meet them. Most of them are injured, all of them are either tense, nervous or openly suspicious.

"Seeker Pentaghast! The demon, is it...?"

Cassandra's immediate response is cut off by a panicked shout, and she's about to reach for her sword again when a templar scribe comes bursting out of the chapel.

"Ser Barris! Ser Barris, come quick! A fire's broken loose in the compound! The keep's burning!"

This is enough to startle everyone there out of the mood they're in.

"Where?" Barris demands.

"Most of the lower levels and the main part of the barracks, ser! Those of our brothers and sister who fought are trapped there - we have to hurry!"

Barris nods before turning back sharply towards Cassandra. "Seeker, I'm aware of the situation we find ourselves in and the decisions that face us. But if you will assist us once more on this, I swear to you that I will pledge my Order's full support to your cause in any capacity you may see fit."

Cassandra nods tightly. "Then we'd better move."

Relief flashes strongly across the man's face before he turns back sharply and starts giving out orders.

* * *

 _ **The Muscle**_

* * *

Despite their assistance - Vivienne's magic, he and Cassandra clearing debris and pulling people out, and Varric putting his skills at talking loud to good use directing survivors out - the damage, collateral and otherwise, is substantial.

Afterwards, while Vivienne's busy overseeing the surviving healers with an iron fist and Cassandra leaves to send a letter, the Iron Bull finds himself alone with Varric for the first time.

They're in the burned-out husk of what was once a dinner hall, sitting apart from a group of templars - it's already dark, and even then, the exhaustion and misery that hangs over them all is tangible and thick the smoke overhead.

Varric practically falls onto the bench, into the seat next to him and grimaces when he catches a glimpse of the soot on his hands.

"Right," he grumbles, wiping his hands on the legs of his trousers. "Does anyone have any idea how this happened?"

"Shit caught fire, made other shit catch fire - left us with this mess." Bull quips, deadpan.

The dwarf snorts. "You ever think about going into writing, Tiny? You got a real way with words..." He drawls, shrugging off his coat.

'Tiny' huh? Okay, he could go with it. "Nah, that's your deal. Wouldn't want to steal your thunder."

Varric blinks at him for a minute before throwing his head back in a bark of laughter. "You know what? You're not half bad." He says after he straightens up.

"Back at you, big man."

Varric flashes him a quick grin until he seems to sober up a little. "Seriously, though... What do you think happened?"

A templar knight nearby must have heard them as she spoke up just then. "I'll tell you how it happened, it was that woman. She caused this!"

The others there go quiet as all eyes turn to her.

This gets Varric's full, undivided attention too.

"Hey now, hold on for a minute - what are you talking about? What woman?"

The templar, despite being injured herself, stands up, keeping her head high. "I was on the wall when it started - I saw them but they didn't see me. I saw her with my own eyes, how she walked amongst those... those _monsters_ we thought as our friends like she was one of them. I saw how she led them through and set fire to everything, like they were trying to burn away any evidence they were here."

That catches Bull's. "Height? Build?" he asks slowly.

The templar hesitates for a moment when she looks at him, but nods curtly and steels herself. "Tall, slender, definitely a women. I... I think she might have been an elf underneath all that black leather from the look of it all, ser."

"And what did _she_ look like?"

"I don't know. She had her face covered in a hood and a bow on her back - a twisted thing made of dark wood. And-" she suddenly hesitates.

"What is it?" Varric asks.

"There was something else, something about her, I'm not sure. Maybe it was magic, but there was a green light and... and it was like something in the air shuddered."

Green light?

Varric must have been thinking the same thing as their eyes meet at the same time.

"Maker as my witness," The templar says defensively. "I really did see her, ser."

"We believe you." Bull reassures.

From the back, someone else speaks up. "What would an elf be doing with those abominations?"

"That's a _very_ good question." Varric says quietly and looks back at the knight. "Think you could tell the Seeker what you saw? If what you're saying's true-"

She scowls. "It is."

"Then she'll definitely want to hear about it."

The templar nods stiffly before going off to find Cassandra, half limping as she does.

Bull watches her go.

"Think she was telling the truth?" he asks quietly enough for only Varric to hear.

The dwarf grimaces. "I think she thinks she's telling the truth, which makes me think she definitely is." He says softly and swears under his breath. "Cassandra's not going to be happy."

"No, I don't suspect she will be." Bull allows, sensing the agitation. "A lot of things just got a whole lot more complicated."

Varric snorts humourlessly. "Yeah, because they weren't complicated enough already, right?"

"It could be worse, Varric."

He groans. "I wish you didn't just say that-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, but look. All I'm saying - all of this? What we did today? That's a step in the right direction. Besides, we got a few things going for us too."

He seems sceptical at best. "Yeah? Like what?"

"We know that there's someone out there who's going through a lot of trouble to cover up their tracks. And ten-to-one, the odds are the same person who's doing that, is the same person who's responsible for this whole mess."

"You think what happened here's related to what's happened up there?" Varric asks, gesturing loosely up towards the ceiling.

Bull looks directly at him, tilting his head to the side. "Don't you? I heard you guys found red lyrium at the temple, right?"

Varric looks vaguely like he might get sick at the idea. "...When you put it like that, that's an awful big coincidence..."

"My point is, maybe if we find the assholes responsible for what happened here, maybe they'll give us the answers we need and we find out how they did it - maybe we'll even find a way to fix it."

"That's a _lot_ of maybes, Tiny."

He shrugs. "It's better than nothing at all."

"True," Varric says and sighs. "You know, of course, even if what you're saying's true, none of that's gonna be easy?"

"Sure hope not. I didn't sign up for this to be easy."

"Yeah..." He says weakly though his shoulders aren't as tense. However, several minutes pass with the two of them spending it in semi-silence when, suddenly, he sits up a little straighter. "Huh..."

"What's up?"

Varric waves him off. "Nothing, it's just... I think it's time I write a letter of my own." He says almost ruefully, smiling a little.

"This an important letter?"

"Maybe." He allows and gets up. "I'll see you later."

Bull doesn't say anything else as he watches the dwarf leaves.

* * *

 _ **The Wildcard**_

* * *

It's not, nor would it ever be, Sera's idea to follow Solas anywhere. But when Blackwall noticed the mage pass them by - armed to the teeth and looking like the stick up his arse was shoved up higher than usual - things started happening and she found herself tagging along anyway.

As she watches the moonlight and sickly green of the Breach glint off of the back of Solas's shiny, shiny head, she tries to convince herself she's there because she's bored and doing it for a shit and a giggle.

It's not.

It's really, really not, and she knows why which makes it worse. (No man as grizzly and beardy as Blackwall should be able to make her feel as bad as he does, but somehow - _somehow_...)

"Can I just say," she grumbles, eyeing the crevasse among the ruined mountain path, "That this, is a really, really, _stupid_ idea. Couldn't you have at least waited until the bloody sun was up, Solas?"

The mage lets out a gusty sigh and it makes Sera feel a little better when she hears the exasperated edge to it. "It's easier to move undetected under the cover of darkness, Sera. Or would you rather attract more attention to yourself than you already are?"

She sticks out her tongue at him but scoots closer to Blackwall when something moves out of the corner of her eye.

He must have noticed the same thing and waves her closer, putting his arm over her shoulder.

"C'mon, girl, it's not that bad. Besides, you're not afraid of the dark now, are you?" he teases, nudging her in the ribs gently.

Sera scoffs but snakes her arm around his waist anyway. Stupid Bear with his stupid beardy face - he was already her favourite, he didn't have to keep doing stuff like that...

Blackwall flashes her a grin before looking ahead and squints. "How much further are we?"

"By my estimation, we should be another ten minutes from the Temple." Solas says and frowns. "As much as I appreciate the intent, Warden Blackwall, there's no need for you to accompany me."

Sera rolls her eyes. "That your way of telling us to leave? If that is, I say we go for it."

Even in the limited light, Blackwall's eyebrows does that furrowing thing they do so well. "Sera-"

"What? If he wants to get himself killed by demons, I don't see why we have to stick around and watch him do it."

"Nor do I recall," Solas adds archly, "ever asking you to join me whilst I do so."

Ponce.

Blackwall just sighs. "Alright, alright, enough of that. Let's just... walk on, shall we?"

They do, and though it's creepy as shite, they do eventually get to the Temple proper. Despite the rift there, there isn't a demon in sight, and while Sera's relieved about that, the fact that _there isn't a demon in sight_ sets her on edge.

...Of course, it's that exact minute when they start hearing the voices too.

"Do you hear that?" she asks in a whisper, trying to ignore the bones she's also been trying not to trip over. She suddenly, violently, wants to punch Solas for thinking this was a good idea. Or shoot him. Or both.

Blackwall looks uneasy. "Hear what?"

"I don't know! That's why I'm asking you two." She snaps, wide-eyed. As soon as the words leave her, there's something on the wind. "There! Hear that?"

Solas shushes them. "Listen..."

They do, and over the tense silence, whispers from nowhere.

 _"-overstep your boundaries..."_ A sharp voice hisses menacingly. _"What ... -the Master say if ... -see you now?"_

Sera kicks her heels into the ash like a mule, not budging an inch. "What in Andraste's name is this rubbish?" she stutters and shut-it, so what if her voice's gotten a little higher-pitch than usual? She's not made to deal with this kind of weirdness.

Solas presses on. Blackwall, damn him, follows after, the arm tightening protectively around her the only reason why she does the same.

They turn the corner, and the great glowing green thing they find hanging in middle of the air marks the edge so far out of her comfort zone, Sera's hand itches for her bow.

Still, Solas presses ever onward, going in deeper.

"What are we hearing?" Blackwall asks, his hand moving over his sword and she can see the warrior's just as nervous as she is.

There's a second whisper, a different voice that comes off clearer than the last. _"He would want answers... -which is why I must..."_

Solas grimaces. "Fragments of memories of what's happened before."

Blackwall looks confused. He isn't the only one. "Say what now?"

"The Veil is thinner here than anywhere else in the world. Thus, certain things, memories, thoughts, strong feelings and such, have a tendency to... slip through." The mage says quietly. "In all honesty, I'm just surprised we aren't hearing more."

"That's _not_ a comforting thought, Solas."

The voice they heard first speaks up again, pretty much dripping with venom like it was a snake. _"You would act? By undoing his work?"_

There's a different sound, a pained whimper belonging to neither of who they've heard so far in the background before the second voice speaks up again, calmly.

 _"By correcting it."_

A strange thrum and _crack_ of energy follows, and the voices go quiet.

"That... that was more important than we think it is, wasn't it?" Blackwall asks in a hush.

Solas nods tightly though Sera doesn't understand the look on his face. "We should... return to Haven."

"I agree. If Leliana is still awake, she'd be interested in hearing what we have to say."

"We'll have to inform Cassandra of this as well, I think." Solas adds grimly.

Sera stares at them incredulously. "We're going already? I thought we were gonna go off and do something important, or did we really slog all the way for nothing?"

"I _had_ intended to sleep here, see what information I could glean from the Fade." Solas admits. "However... with what we've just heard, I'd say that's no longer necessary."

"Not to mention I don't like the idea of being a man down if any trouble comes strolling about." Blackwall admits. "Perhaps it's best if we come back another time, then? I'm sure the Inquisition could lend a few guards if you intend to, er... sleep."

Solas sighs. "It would be more prudent, I suppose."

"Right, well, shall we then?" Blackwall asks, eyeing the surrounding ruin with distaste when he notices the glowing red between the broken bits.

Solas agrees reluctantly, but just as he's about to turn away from the rift, something catches his eye. "Hold a moment."

Sera groans. "Oh what is it now?"

He doesn't answer, walking away before kneeling down and starts brushing soot and ash off of something partially hidden in the ground. When Sera goes to look over his shoulder, he stands up, and when he turns around he has a bow in his hands.

As strange as that was, what's even weirder is the fact that unlike everything else around them, the bow's untouched and unburned - the shape of the thing's unlike anything Sera had ever seen too, shaped like it came right off of a tree looking like it did.

There were even twigs with actually living _leaves_ facing out and back around the curve and growing vines twisting around the length of it.

"How is that even in one piece?" she wonders out loud.

"Magic?" Solas tones in mildly, weighing the bow in his hands.

Of course. Arsehole. "Ugh."

When he pulls back and aims like he knows what he's doing, Sera feels her eyebrows nearly touch her hairline. "You don't look like a complete tit with that. You know how to shoot?"

His mouth curls into a wry smirk that doesn't sit well with her. "I am... proficient, though I prefer my magic, obviously."

Blackwall seems impressed either way as he comes up to stand next to Sera. "It's a sound strategy. There are enough rogue templars in the world who know how to nullify magic, it's good that you're not dependant on it." He says and takes a better look at the bow. "It looks elven."

Solas runs his thumb carefully over the grip, pausing over the starburst pattern carved there. "Dalish, if I'm not mistaken."

The warrior nods. "It's a handsome piece either way you look at it. Then again, I've heard only good things about their craftsman - there's a reason why their hunters are one of the best out there."

Sera's nose crinkles. "Shame most of them are complete knobs then, eh?"

Solas surprises her further by snorting in what could have been agreement before, topping _that_ , holding the bow out for her.

"You'd make better use of it than I would." He says simply, seeing the look on her face.

She's sceptical and more than just a little bit put out. "What's the catch?"

He looks annoyed. "None, but if you'd rather I take it back to Haven and barter with it-"

That makes her scowl. "What? You'd take it to that arse who runs trading? He still looks down his nose at me whenever I-" At the smug look on the mage's face, she stops mid-rant and glares. "...You did that on purpose."

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about, Sera." He drawls, still smirking when she takes it from his hands roughly.

"This has got to be the elfiest bow I've ever seen in my life..." she grumbles.

Still... the wood's warm to the touch, which, again, is weird, and she almost changes her mind and shoves it back at Solas when that not-awful warmth spreads up from her fingertips through her arm.

Blackwall chuckles, distracting her away from the probably-magic bow. "Well now... look at the two of you. Getting along. Makes me feel all teary-eyed."

She scoffs. "Who's getting along? Free stuff's free stuff. Besides..." she says as she draws an arrow, and with a single, fluid motion (because, _yeah_ , she could), turns, aims and shoots it right in the centre of the half-closed rift. "If it works, it-"

There's a rumble and an ominous flash of light behind her that makes Sera's instinct trip over itself and stutter.

She doesn't have time to look around and see what she did, as Blackwall grabs her wrist and the two of them and Solas book it like half of the Fade's nastier beasties were behind them.

Since they were where they were, well... One thing was for bloody certain, though - the next time Solas went anywhere, she'd definitely _not_ be. That, and she'd punch Blackwall if he tried to change her mind about anything ever again.

You know, probably...

...Ugh. Stupid Bear.

* * *

 **Meanwhile...**

* * *

The general mood within The Gull and Lantern had taken a darker turn that night, the division between the mages there and townsfolk more pronounce than before as the former members of the Circle sat together and spoke in hushed whispers about the latest turn of events.

"Did you hear?"

"-went to the templars-"

"But didn't Fiona-"

"-Don't be ridiculous. Where would she even get the _time_?"

"What did we do wrong?"

"Tevinter-"

The men in the corner are obscured, sitting in the semi-shadows, unnoticed but able to hear everything.

"But, the Inquisition-"

"Why didn't they-?"

"Everything feels a little _strange_ , though. Doesn't it?"

"Not so loud! They'll hear-"

The man in the dark hood's fists clenches, mouth set in a thin downwards line until the other covers his hand with his own. The touch, though running colder than what it should be and vaguely clammy, is gentle enough to make the tension he carries with him a little more bearable.

"Maker help us all..."

"The Magister-"

"What do we do now?"

He tries to smile, and may even succeed because the smile he gets back makes him cling to that too fragile sense of hope that much tighter. It's so dangerous to believe in anything these days, and yet...

"The Inquisition-"

"What does that mean for us?"

"Shh! They're listening-"

"Have you heard...?"

They stand up, those around them too caught up in their conversations to look up when they leave.

It's a long walk to the castle after all.

* * *

 **The Mind**

* * *

When Cassandra returns several days later, she does so with less templars than Solas would have expected, looking far more troubled than what he would have preferred, and with new information that drove more than just the ordinary soldier to drink that night.

Admittedly, the sight of Cullen, Josephine and Leliana sitting in the corner of the tavern was as strange as it was fascinating. The General was nursing a mug of dwarven ale and looking flushed while both Ambassador and Spymaster were on their second glass of not inexpensive Antivan brandy, and Solas, for his part, had been vaguely inclined to join them.

He didn't though, and he'd left there, sobered at the thought of it.

The only good thing to come from the Seeker's alliance, however, was the slight increase in recruit numbers and, later, a letter of confirmation from the acting leader of the Templar Order that more aid was coming... eventually.

None of that meant they were any closer to closing the Breach, of course but at least they know how to fight. And if the grudging convoy of Chantry representatives and steady trickle of dwarven traders were anything to go on, it seemed for the time being, at least, the Inquisition was recognized as the organization it is.

Or concern.

Among the latest developments, he'd also grudgingly begun spending more time with Madame Vivienne. While his less-than-complimentary impression of the women rang true, he'd conceded that, where research and debate are concerned, the Enchanter is as formidable as she plays to be.

Again, however, none of that meant either of them got along.

No... not that.

Between her not-so-subtle jabs at the credibility of his studies and his own not-so-subtle jabs back at her massive ego, any amount of cooperation on their part was held together by the agreement that the Breach needed to be closed and the occasional glare from Cassandra.

Sera sometimes hung around just to watch the two of them bicker, leaving only when the discussion got to 'magey' or when a stray shard of ice or electric bolt was flung in her direction.

More often than not, however, the arguments ran dry and even the barbs lost their sharp edges. That night in particular ended with the three of them walking to their separate quarters together. It's late, and for the moment, they've exhausted conversation enough not to say anything at all.

It's only coincidence that they happen to catch Varric as he steps out of the hut given to him - crossbow at his back, his heavier leather duster is buttoned up for once and his pack slung over his shoulder.

"Oi, now," Sera says. "What's this? Where're you off to?"

The dwarf, temporarily caught off-guard, clears his throat uncomfortably. "Ah... this wasn't part of the plan."

Solas feels his eyebrows knitting together. "Varric?"

"I... There's a carriage with my name on it a little way from here." He says in way of explanation. "I gotta be on it in about twenty minutes or else it'll go on without me."

The silence that follows is uncomfortable as the information sinks in.

"You're leaving then, I take it?" Vivienne says, breaking the silence and arching a brow.

"To be fair, I never officially joined anything." Varric points out. "It... I can't _do_ anything where I am right now. I haven't been, so... yeah. Yeah, I'm leaving."

"But why?" Sera demands suddenly, clearly unhappy. "We need you here. We need your snark and your ridiculous crossbow and you knowing too much and your stories that can't be true. You're _our_ dwarf."

Varric looks torn. "You've got Harding-"

"That's not the same and you know it!" she says angrily. "You can't just leave!"

Vivienne scoffs. "Let him go. If he insists on going the coward's way, let him. We'll see if he comes crawling back or not." She says icily before sweeping past them.

Varric grimaces. "Yikes... the Iron Lady doesn't pull her punches, does she?" he says until he sees Sera's face. "Buttercup..."

She looks down, biting her lip. "I dunno - don't get me wrong, I make a point not agreeing with anything Vivi's said, ever, but..."

He sighs. "It's a dick move. I get it." He says and tries to smile apologetically. "I'm sorry."

Sera turns away. "Yeah, well... too late for that now, innit?"

Varric looks like he's about to say something, but doesn't when she walks away.

He rubs his hand down his face before looking at Solas out of the corner of his eye. "You gonna say something to me too, Chuckles?" he asks, sounding resigned.

"No. I think enough's been said already. I do however wonder why you're really doing this."

"Like I said, I'm not really... contributing around here, so why delay the inevitable?"

"That's a very convincing lie, Master Tethras."

Varric lets out what could have been a laugh. "That's what I like about you. Always seeing through bullshit."

"I thought it was my boundless optimism?"

"That too." He says, smiling a little more genuinely until some unknown emotion crosses his face. "Look, just... take care of yourself, okay? It's crazy out there."

Solas nods. "You as well, Varric."

"Thanks. Oh, and, uh... if Cassandra asks- You know what? Never mind. Just make sure you're not in the same room when she finds out. That's not likely to end well for anyone."

Despite himself, Solas smiles a little. "I'll keep that in mind."

And with that, Varric adjusts the position of his pack, and with a final parting nod, turns and leaves.

* * *

 **The Ambition**

* * *

As anticipated, Varric's sudden departure had the expected effect on Cassandra, and it had become increasingly difficult for Vivienne not to say anything about the Seeker's increasingly irate mood.

But, while her near-constant glaring and snappishness got on her nerves, Vivienne had other things to deal with, anyway...

While she'd never personally been to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, she isn't immune to what she sees as they move deeper into what was once the building's interior.

Her own personal retainer and the soldiers who decided to escort them seem to jump at every passing shadow, and Vivienne catches Cassandra rolling her eyes more than once the whole way there.

It's all too tempting to toy with them a little like she did with the younger, hot-blooded nobles back in the Celene's Court. But, alas, the current mood didn't allow for frivolity. It was all work these days.

Eerily void of demons, the rift outside the Temple gave off a subtle thrum of energy that had the magic in her veins flaring. Not even to speak of the red lyrium there, the entire repulsive little excursion was turning out to be more distasteful by the minute.

As sceptical as she was when she heard Solas's recount of what he'd seen, the whispers she hears in the wind is enough to give credence to the idea. Loath as she was to admit it.

"Tell me again, Solas," Cassandra says after she orders the soldiers away to patrol the parameter. "What exactly do you expect to find here? Beyond what you've already told us, I mean."

"What Sera, Blackwall and I heard was only a fragment of the true conversation." He says, kneeling down in the ash some distance from the half-sealed rift. "With any luck, I may hear the rest of it."

The Seeker arches a brow. "And if you are not so lucky?"

"At the very least, I might be able to provide a name." He says with a sigh, setting his staff aside.

Vivienne can't keep herself from scoffing. "Not to trample on your idea, Solas darling, but what you heard that night might also have been a lie."

The apostate narrows his eyes at her. "Do you have a better suggestions then, Lady Vivienne?"

"No, no - it's hardly for me to tell you what to do, dear. Feel free to waste your time interpreting dreams. But as any mage with half a wit can tell you, misconception is the opposite of truth, and the Fade itself is nothing but a realm built on falsehood and the childish whims of dreamers."

His jaw tightens just a fraction. "That was almost poetic, Enchanter."

"Hardly, but everyone knows the Fade distorts the reality of those who enter it, and the Maker only knows how much the Breach has twisted even _that_ further."

"While your concern is well founded despite being tainted by outdated notions, do you or do you not agree that truth can be found among rumour by those with half a mind to look for it?"

"Of course you can, but just as I've told you the last time we've had this trite little conversation, rumour and gossip are often just that and rarely grounded in fact." She says before waving the discussion on. "However, we're not getting anywhere by rehashing the same debate again and again. We might as well get on with it."

He stares at her. "'We'?"

"Obviously. You didn't really think I came all this way for my health now, did you?" she says wryly with an impatient snap of her fingers, spurring her retainer to lay down the mat she had him carry the way near her feet.

Solas watches with disbelief as her servant then helps her sit down and is promptly dismissed with another elegant wave once he's done so.

Cassandra wisely doesn't say anything, and other than the apprehensive look on her face, she wishes the both of them luck anyway before stepping away to rejoin her soldiers.

Making herself comfortable (as much as she could - one could only do so much to improve the ambiance and company after all), Vivienne nods at Solas curtly.

"Well then, shall we?"

* * *

 _The Temple in the Fade, while partly intact, bore the scars from the Breach, and the moment Vivienne is aware of where she is, the first thing she notices is the absence of the high ceilings she'd heard far, far too much of._

 _Its replacement does not help matters._

 _"You seem uneasy, Enchanter." She hears._

 _"Not in the slightest, but one can't help but wonder what would happen if you passed through the Breach while your body lays dreaming."_

 _The elf makes a thoughtful sound. "That's an interesting question. It's surprising."_

 _She can't help but roll her eyes at his presumption. "Well, dear, you should know that the Circle has always encouraged independent thought through safe study - oh, wait... silly me." She bites back sweetly before turning to face him._

 _For a moment when she does, however, she's taken aback by the apostate's appearance. While outwardly still as drab and shabby as always, there is a definitely sharpness, a certain edge to his features that struck her as_ different _in that instance._

 _He tilts his head to the side a fraction, eyebrow cocked in a silent challenge._

 _She doesn't take the bait and instead stands to her full height. "We shouldn't waste time standing around - this doesn't look like the central hall."_

 _"No... if I had to guess, I would say we're in one of the smaller antechambers."_

 _"Indeed. Normally I would suggested we go our separate ways to cover more ground, but given the circumstances we should err on the side of caution."_

 _"In this instance, I am inclined to agree." Solas says with a sigh. "Very well."_

 _She lets him lead them on with a little more than an impatient wave and a look._

 _Ice magic coats the tips of her fingers as they move out of the chamber and into a narrow hallway that seems to darken with every step they take. Strange, given the ominous green glow from above and the occasional meter-high red shard that marked the way._

 _After a while, Solas speaks up. "I'm curious, Madame de Fer, if you would indulge me?"_

 _Typical. "Of course you are."_

 _"You were insistent that Lady Cassandra herself accompany us - why?"_

 _"With the Breach the way it is, it's only standard practice."_

 _"'Standard practice'?"_

 _"It was normally a templar's duty to watch for mages who exhibit signs of possession. Since I'm sure most of the templars we have now have other duties to perform, I asked our Lady Seeker to join us in their stead. To my knowledge, they have similar techniques and should be able to notice anything amiss just as efficiently."_

 _She doesn't see his face but the scorn is obvious in his voice. "Are you truly that ill at ease with your magic that you would willing put your life in the hands of someone else?"_

 _"Oh, it's not just_ _ **my**_ _life, darling. Cassandra's going to be keeping an eye on both of us." She informs him cheerfully._

 _She takes a perverse type of pleasure when the elf actually starts spluttering and he falls behind for a moment as he stares at her, speechless._

 _This doesn't stop her in the slightest, and she walks on with a slight skip in her step. "Well come along now. I seem to recall that we're in a hurry."_

 _Solas mutters something harsh and unflattering in that made-up language of his before stalking after her._

* * *

 **The Mind**

* * *

 _They have little else to say for the rest of the way as they eventually move deeper into the central interior of the Temple. The deeper they go, however, the more certain things become glaringly obvious._

 _With every step they take, something seems to twist in on itself, something else crumbles, and the cluster of red lyrium seem to pulse and shift, growing thicker and thicker with every encounter._

 _"Did you notice, Enchanter?" He asks quietly._

 _Vivienne nods stiffly, clenching her frost-covered fingers. "I did."_

 _At a time - or, rather, recently with the way things are - he would have found this partial solitude preferable in the Fade. The stillness now, however, is unnatural,_ _ **wrong**_ _._

 _No demons._

 _No spirits._

 _Complete. Emptiness._

 _They approach the heart of the Temple and the presumed site of the cataclysm only to have the path forward blocked by a sudden spike of red lyrium._

 _They share a look and try to break through, at first casting their magic at it and then, to a lesser extent on Solas's part, trying to subtly shift the reality of the dream to suit their purpose, willing the crystal to move._

 _It doesn't budge an inch._

 _He doesn't have time to think about it, however._

 _"Move," he says, noticing the ground tremble at their feet. "Vivienne, move!"_

 _They do, both stepping away in the other direction away from one another just as another wall of crystal rises, separating each from one another._

 _"Well, this is just wonderful," he hears Vivienne, her voice muffled from the barrier._

 _"Vivienne?" He calls, straightening up._

 _"I'm here, Apostate - and in one piece, at least."_

 _"Do you see a way through this?"_

 _"Of course not." She snaps. "The only way left open to me leads in the opposite direction. What of you?"_

 _Solas looks around himself, noticing a doorway to the side of the passage he's in._

 _"There is a path I can follow, although I have doubts it will lead to the intended destination."_

 _"Then I suggest you stay on your guard regardless. I'll continue my search on my end - we'll likely see one another once we wake up from this infernal place."_

 _"Most likely. Good luck."_

 _He can hear her scoff if not imagine her rolling her eyes at him again. "One doesn't need luck when you have skill." She says, her voice already quieter than before as, Solas assumes, she leaves._

 _Faced with no real choice himself, he takes the only path left to him and goes through the stone arch leading deeper._

* * *

 _The passage is narrow and winding yet well lit, and much to his relief, relatively free of any red lyrium. It's empty and quiet save from his footsteps, and eventually he reaches a small inner courtyard that leads in two different directions._

 _It was then that he catches sight of a green light at the end of the right side path out of the corner of his eye._

 _He turns and is astonished to see a willowy figure there - whether it's a spirit or otherwise is unclear, but the magic - the raw, pure magic - he feels is so real it's almost tangible._

 _"Wait-" he calls, and the figure reveals itself to be an elven woman of all things._

 _Clearly startled herself when she looks and sees him, she turns and runs, the magic - stemming from the mark on her hand - flares up in a burst of light._

 _He follows without hesitation._

 _"_ Lethallan _," he calls again, running after down another winding hallway and up stone steps laced with red crystals. "Wait-!"_

 _The chase ends not because she stops, but because they both reach a ledge overlooking the desolate landscape of the Fade that lies beyond._

 _She stands on the edge, shoulders rising and falling sharply with effort before her head snaps in his direction - her eyes widen and it's not difficult to see the raw fear there._

 _He holds up his hands in surrender, taking a visible step back to give her space._

 _"Peace... I mean you no harm."_

 _It's also when he takes her in - she's little more than a waif, her pale hair wild and dirty, the leathers she wears ripped and bloodied while the hand that doesn't glow is held in a way too strange to be natural or painless._

 _"W-who," she begins, her voice, although soft, is rough from disuse. "Who are you?"_

 _With his hands still raised, he chances a step forward - she notices, and takes a step back as a result, inching closer to the edge._

 _The pitch of her voice raises an octave in panic. "Stay where you are-!"_

 _"I won't." He reassures. "I'm staying right here."_

 _He waits patiently until she calms down enough and the tension in her shoulders lessens._

 _It's only once she sees that he keeps his promise and doesn't make a move towards her that darker brows knit together and she frowns._

 _"You... you're not a figment of my imagination, are you?"_

 _He's tempted to ask what she means, but knows it would be counterproductive if he did. "No."_

 _She surprises him when she approaches him, every step closer slow and tentative._

 _What's more, is when she's close enough, she then reaches that same mangled hand and touches the side of his face._

 _Her touch is, quite literally, electric._

* * *

 **The Ambition**

* * *

 **Meanwhile...**

 _She winds up in front of what appears to be a grand hall. True to Fereldan sensibilities (an oxymoron if ever there was one, as far as Vivienne is concerned), there's a distinct lack of ornate features and colour that doesn't resemble dirt._

 _As she passes the ceiling-high windows, she has the sudden, almost violent need to burn the shabby drapes she sees there. Perhaps it was blasphemy to think so, she muses, her mouth twitching as she examines the faded, ugly material, but there was clearly no accounting for taste._

 _She doesn't see the spirit so much as feel the brush of something more against her senses, and when she turns, she has to keep herself from lashing out. It was nothing more than a faceless waif, a figure wrapped entirely in rags and emitting a pale blue aura - at first glance, it would be easy to assume it isn't a threat at all._

 _Looks are deceiving, and Vivienne knows better than to take anything at face value. The fine hairs she feels standing on end on her arm at the mere proximity is proof enough of that._

 _The spirit turns its hooded head towards her before speaking in a soft, feminine voice not unlike a wind chime. "Of all the things I thought I would find in this dark place, another mortal soul was not one of them."_

 _Vivienne keeps her distance and her magic brimming at her fingers. "I could say the same of you, Spirit - I was made to understand your kind avoided this place." She says suspiciously._

 _There's a pause in which the spirit looks up, voice almost faraway with thought. "True... the sunder in the Veil is... distressing." She- it, Vivienne reminds herself sternly- allows. "However, there are other things more important than my apprehension."_

 _"And what would that be?"_

 _"A promise..." It says vaguely and straightens up, the blue aura intensifying. "I sense you are here for a reason as well... yet, what that reason is, is unclear... I also sense that you're actively blocking my attempts to understand you better. You've trained yourself well, although you have nothing to fear from me, mage."_

 _Vivienne scoffs at the idea. "I am perfectly aware of how capable I am - I am also aware that spirits are perfectly capable of lying."_

 _She -_ _ **it**_ _\- sounds like its smiling. "We are, but one would have to ask what the point of doing so would be."_

 _"...Indeed."_

 _At that moment, the feeling that premeditates the air changes - it's subtle but there, and Vivienne is suddenly more aware of the faint, not-so-faint whisper in his hindbrain._

 _The spirit notices. "No..."_

 _"What is happening?" Vivienne says sharply._

 _"An echo of darker tidings from your world - a prelude to what is time come." She- it- oh, whatever you want to call it says, turning abruptly. "Stay longer at your own peril, mage, but know what is coming is beyond your will to change."_

 _"Then who's will is strong enough?"_

 _The spirit pauses for a moment. "...That remains to be seen. Granted I'm not too late to do anything about it."_

 _And with that, it simply drifted off through a wall._

* * *

 **The Mind**

* * *

 _The touch is brief, barely a feather light brush of fingertips against his skin laced with an electric current._

 _"You- this feels real, but..." the woman begins before the realization dawns across her ruined face. "You're a mage - a dreamer."_

 _She doesn't step away even when she pulls her hand back. At their current proximity, he can see every new scar, the fresh, shallow gashes on her jaw, the discoloured bruise on her cheek._

 _His jaw clenches at the extent of her injuries. "I am," he says, keeping his own voice calm, even. "Yet I sense the same cannot be said about you."_

 _She shakes her head slowly. "I don't... I'm not sure how I can do this." She says too softly before sharp green eyes lights up. "So, then, this is real? This is really happening right now?"_

 _"Yes."_

 _She lets out a shaky breath as she looks down briefly. "Then perhaps it's not too late..." She murmurs under her breath._

 _"What do you mean?" he asks sharply._

 _She opens her mouth when the mark on her hand suddenly flares up violently, cutting off whatever she was about to say with a choked gasp of pain. He catches her by her arms without a moment's hesitation when her legs buckle out and steadies her._

 _"No, no, no-" she says, breathless and frantic._

 _"What is happening?"_

 _She shakes her head. "Don't worry about that - you- you have to g-go! You have to go_ _ **now**_ _! You have to warn those people!"_

 _"Warn them-?"_

 _The air changes just then and the woman looks around herself, yanking herself out of his grip just as the the mark on her hand flares up. "They're in d-danger - everyone in that village in the valley. An army is coming - it's bigger than what- what they can handle."_

 _The whisper he'd heard before intensified into something close to a roar._

 _"When?" he asks._

 _"S-soon. Over the mountains. They- he isn't going to stop until- until the village is destroyed. Please! You need to go! You need to-"_

 _All at once, the noise reaches its fever pitch before the ground and sky itself trembles._

 _The woman's face pales._

 _"He's here."_

* * *

 **The Ambition**

* * *

She wakes up with a start, head snapping up as she hears the commotion erupting around her.

It's dark already, and despite stumbling a bit, Vivienne is on her feet the moment she hears Cassandra's shout join the chaos.

"Seeker-" she begins.

Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Solas waking up as well, though he's significantly more sluggish that she would have expected.

When Cassandra approaches them, she looks tense, something which Vivienne has come to realize is never a good thing.

"One of our patrols have encountered forward scouts."

"Forward scouts? Belonging to who?"

"I don't know." She says grimly. "We can speak of what you saw later, but right now, we must go back to the village. They were armed for war."

Solas grimaces. "Haven isn't suited to repel an assault of any real magnitude, Seeker."

"He's right." Vivienne finds herself adding matter-of-factly. "As much faith as I have in your capabilities, Cassandra, rushing towards imminent danger seems counterproductive to staying alive."

The dark-haired woman's mouth twitches. "Is that your way of saying you're not coming?"

"Not at all, dear - all I meant to say is I hope you have a plan."

The silence that follows is deafening, but in its stead, there is the unmistakable echo of an army marching through the mountains and a storm gathering over the Inquisition.

* * *

 **-To Be Continued-**

* * *

 **A/N:** I kinda have a head-cannon about how mages take short jaunts into the Fade sitting-up but sleeping in those poses ancient Tibetan monks and yoga instructors have perfected. Also, if I haven't said it before, I'll say it now, I'm a little in love with Vivienne - bitch she may be, but she gets points for owning up to it and being fabulous. I loved writing her and Cole (though, man, Cole-speak takes one or two tries to get right).

Anyhow, I'm not too confident about the last part - I rewrote that and added a few things I didn't originally intend to add, but I'll probably take a look at it later... probably.

I hope you enjoyed reading! Thank you all who have left a review and subscribed!

I'll have the next chapter up once I've finished the one I'm busy with. Embrace yourselves, people - we have a three-parter coming up!

Until next time,  
GoddessofDawn out.


	3. Chapter 3: Part 1

**A/N:** For the most part Dorian-centric, but I don't see that as a problem with that. Otherwise, we get to see a little more Herald in this, as well as a very important turn of events.

Also, thank you so much for all those who left the reviews and added this story to their follows and favourites!

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you are familiar with.

* * *

 **Like a Shot from the Dark**

* * *

 **-THREE-  
** _Good Intentions_

* * *

Part 1

* * *

 _"Gather around my friends/Let's try not to pretend,  
There's a war between the cold out there and the fire within -  
I know that we're alive/I know that we can dive,  
Right into the thick of it."_

 _"You see, we are burning/This is real,  
We're on fire but we can't feel a thing,  
We were promised more than we can take -  
Everybody out the fire escape."  
_\- **Civil Twilight** , _Fire Escape_ Lyrics

* * *

 _ **The Redeemer**_

* * *

His frantic heart is a low, deafening roar in his ears that threaten to drown out the chaos that is currently swallowing up the world around him.

The smell of smoke and burnt flesh hangs thickly in the air, and despite the grey haze and despite the imminent danger - perhaps because of it - his grip tightens around his staff.

The fire that snakes up and gathers at his fingertips reflect and glitter in the helmets of his opponents and there's a moment - _just_ a moment - that he feels like a traitor for what he is about to do.

It doesn't last when his conviction returns with vigour, and the magic he feels burning in his veins erupt in an explosive show of force. It's as impressive to look at as it is effective, but while the enemies fall, the effort takes its toll and he feels his legs tremble under his weight.

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches the gate opening, and turns in time to see a man and a dark-haired woman step out and towards him. The woman has a frightfully competent look about her, and for the first time since this nightmare began, Dorian Pavus allows himself to believe things might just turn around.

After all, the alternative meant certain doom and death and all things tawdy.

And _that_ just wouldn't do - he'd worked too hard, saw too much for that to happen...

* * *

 **[2 Weeks Earlier]  
Redcliffe**

* * *

 _His eyes lingered on the jagged maw of the massive stone statues that stood guard at either side of the drawbridge leading to Redcliffe Castle, and he had to bite his tongue to stop himself commenting on the sheer tackiness of it all._

 _A gloved hand slipped into his and squeezed briefly and Dorian turned to grimace at his friend underneath his hood. "I understand the cultural significance and all that rot, but why do these people feel the need to cover every surface they have with dogs?"_

 _Felix let out a low chuckle. "Some might say the same of all the dragons back home." He pointed out before pulling his hand back and slid it back into his cloak._

 _"Yes, but it still boggles the mind. And what would you rather have guarding your cities and striking fear and awe into the hearts of the masses? A giant fire-breathing lizard or a flea-bitten cur?"_

 _The younger man's mouth twitched. "Careful, Dorian, if you keep rambling someone might think you're nervous."_

 _"You think so? I always thought it was a quirky, yet charming habit of mine."_

 _Felix's eyes softened. "Dorian..."_

 _He huffed. "Oh, fine... but, ah, all of this? This situation we're in-"_

 _"I know." Felix said quietly. "I'm nervous too."_

 _"Yes, well... it doesn't really help anyone if we lose our nerve now, now will it?" he said and straightened up, taking a deep breath._

 _"Are you ready?"_

 _"With everything at stake? I'll have to be."_

* * *

 _Once they went through the trite nonsense of identifying themselves, Felix asked to see his father, implying her wasn't feeling well._

 _Alarmed, the guard on duty didn't so much as blink in Dorian's direction before leading them to the Magister's claimed study. The apprehension must have come through in Dorian's posture, as Felix would tug at his sleeve in the passing, a subtle reminder to keep calm and that he wasn't alone._

 _As much as he appreciated the gesture, Dorian was preoccupied with the unpleasantness he knew was coming. Vaguely, he amused himself what it would take to provoke Alexius into throwing the first fireball... though, who was he kidding? If anyone was going to throw the first anything, it was going to be him._

 _When they arrived in the study, Alexius was standing with his back turned to the door, facing the fireplace, not turning until their escort announced Felix. As he turned, he smiled despite the obvious fatigue about him... until his eyes fell on Dorian, and whatever warmth was there vanished in an instant._

 _"Father-" Felix began._

 _Alexius stopped him with a single, halting gesture before dismissing the guard in the room with a single, brisk nod and watched him leave. Once, and only once, the door was shut firmly behind him, did the Magister return his full and undivided attention to his son and former protégée._

 _Instead of being angry or upset as Dorian had expected, Alexius merely sighed before walking over to the cabinet at the far end of the room and started pouring a sizable amount of brandy for himself._

 _"Of course it had to be you." He said ruefully, and Dorian watched in stunned amazement as he then proceeded to down the drink._

 _When he was done, he set the partially empty glass aside before pouring two glasses._

 _"Shall I guess why you're here?" he asked._

 _"Father, please..." Felix said, starting to approach him._

 _"Is this your doing, Felix? Did you bring him here?" he asked, unnervingly calm._

 _"I brought myself." Dorian corrected sharply, speaking up. "...Not that I was expecting a warm welcome, but you're taking my sudden appearance rather well."_

 _"Not at all, but then again, you've never shied away from a dramatic entrance, Dorian. I've simply learned not to be surprised anymore." He said and handed Dorian one of the glasses without an explanation. "Now, shall we get to why you're here?"_

 _Dorian's jaw clenched. "That much should be obvious." He said, setting the glass aside. "I knew this... cult of yours was a breathtaking stupid idea, but this? Time magic? I don't know what you're playing at, but we agreed that it would stay theoretical. You are playing with forces you do not understand!"_

 _His voice rose with every breath, but instead of the reaction he wanted - the old Alexius would have fired back, eyes bright and burning - his former mentor merely gave Felix the second glass and finished his own drink._

 _And he was still so damnably_ _ **calm**_ _._

 _"Things change." He said simply, his voice rough from the alcohol._

 _"Clearly. You've lost your mind." Dorian snapped, getting into his space. "Alexius, think! Think of what your meddling is doing to the world!" He scoffed. "Are you going to react at all? Andraste's Pyre, man! What's wrong with you?"_

 _He felt Felix's hand on his shoulder. "Dorian..."_

 _He nearly shrugged it off when Alexius surprised him by chuckling and turned back to the fire. "I've always admired that about you, Dorian." He said, sounding almost nostalgic. "Your commitment to doing the right thing... perhaps if I..." He then shook his head. "No... no. It probably wouldn't matter now at this point, anyway. It's too late for that."_

 _Felix frowned. "Father? What's wrong? You're talking like- like..."_

 _The blank expression on Alexius's face faltered for a moment when he looked at his son. "Felix... I wish for a number of things, but I regret involving you in this mess most of all."_

 _Dorian very nearly started pulling out his own hair, and with a frustrated growl in his throat, he turned away from his former mentor and took up his drink again. He was about to knock it back when something caught his eye._

 _Stalking over to it, he took the familiar pendant lying among the heap of crumpled notes there and held it up, astonished._

 _Alexius noticed. "You recognize it, yes?"_

 _"You kept it?"_

 _"It was the basis for everything. It may just be the reason I've been kept alive as long as I have."_

 _"What are you talking about?" Dorian demanded, startled._

 _The older man sighed. "I'm simply resigning myself to my fate. You've heard the news, no doubt?" he said and stared back into the fire. "About the Inquisition? How they've managed to sway the Templars into joining their cause? You see, my master does not suffer failure, and with every experiment I've perform and every wrong answer I provide, I too fail him a little bit more every time."_

 _Before Dorian could open his mouth to say anything else, there was a sudden, loud crash followed by shouting, and the beginning of a commotion coming from the lower levels._

 _The change in Alexius's posture was subtle, but his shoulders seemed to tense just then._

 _"There is a hidden passage down in the dungeons that will lead you to the outskirts of the village." He said, and There was a definite tremble in his voice that drove every angry thought from Dorian's mind. "I strongly suggest you avoid the main staircase and go through the servant's tunnels to get to them."_

 _"Alexius-"_

 _The Magister cut him off with a desperate look, his first real expression of the night. "You have to leave. Take Felix with you, and do not draw attention to yourselves." The noise from below seemed to grow louder like it was coming up, coming closer. "Dorian. Go."_

 _He realized in that moment there was so still much he wanted to say to the man standing in front of him, and it hit him in that same instant that he never would._

 _He swallowed back the sudden onslaught of mixed emotions and nodded stiffly, holding the talisman that much tighter in his hand before making to take Felix's._

 _"We have to leave." He said quietly, feeling another strong pang of feeling when he saw the distraught look on Felix's face._

 _His friend didn't so much as budge when he started to move towards the door. "Come with us." Felix begged. "Please-"_

 _Alexius just smiled and shook his head, the shouting uncomfortably close at that stage. "I did it all for you. I'm sorry I couldn't do more."_

 _There was another crash, and with a final look between himself and his former mentor, Dorian tugged hard at Felix's hand until he almost had to drag him out of the door._

 _Once they were out, they started running._

* * *

 **[Present]  
Haven**

* * *

They drag him through the gate as the dark haired woman charges ahead, weapons drawn with two elves and an one-eyed qunari at her flank. He doesn't have time to make sense of that last part when the blonde man who'd briefly introduced himself as Commander Cullen turns away for a moment to bark out order to the soldiers who remained.

When he turns back, his mouth is tight. "The Chantry is that way. Unless you want to get caught up any further in this disaster, you better get to it. I'll deal with you later if we survive this."

Despite the magic expenditure taking its toll, the way he said that makes something in Dorian go cold and he narrows his eyes. "You can't be serious." He says disdainfully, getting into the man's space. "I'm not going to go and cower while everything around me burns. And in case it did escaped your notice, your people are going to need all the help they can get."

They have a stare off that lasts exactly a the span of a heartbeat when something explodes within hearing range and they're both thrust back into the moment.

The Commander relents. "You think you can help? Fine. Find those who aren't fighting and get them to safety. The Chantry is the only building that might hold up if worse comes to pass."

"But it won't now, will it?" Dorian says sharply. "Because you're not going to let it happen. I didn't come all this way to for the lot of you to up and die on me either."

Cullen's jaw twitches. "Nor would anyone." He then straightens up and glares. "Move."

Dorian huffs but knows there isn't time to snipe back at him and follows the path up.

Adrenaline and desperation both do their part keeping him on his feet and focused on the path ahead as he pulls people out of the burning cabins along the way and shouts himself hoarse. It's chaos, loud and frantic, and despite the effort on the soldiers' part, the Venatori still slip through.

He catches a group of swordsmen cornering a man in a white chantry uniform and helps by raising a wall of fire to separate them. Not expecting this, the would-be attackers didn't see the glyph under their feet until it was too late to move.

With the enemy down, the man was in the clear.

"Are you alright?" Dorian asks, trying not to grimace at the sight at his feet.

The man stares at him, wide-eyed and disbelieving. "You- you're not with-"

He has to keep himself from rolling his eyes. "No - the big chap with the feathered pauldron told me to round everyone up and take them to the Chantry. Now, easy does it...?"

"R-Roderick."

He nods. "Roderick. Okay. I'm going to get you out of here." He says, holding out his hand to help him step over the bodies.

While it's clear the man doesn't believe a word he's saying, he does grasp his forearm to steady himself.

"Thank you." He says quietly, much to Dorian's surprise.

"Yes, well," Dorian begins, "if we live through this, you can by me a drink."

Before anyone can say anything else, he catches a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye and the next thing he knows, Roderick suddenly pushes him away and he's on the ground.

There's a flash of steel followed by the sickening sound of it piercing flesh.

Dorian looks up and is horrified to see one of the swordsmen he thought he'd taken care of - not as dead as he would have preferred - standing behind Roderick, the point of a blade stained red and visibly sticking through his stomach.

The swordsman withdraws with another disgusting sound and the man crumbles - his sees him then, and he's about to raise weapon when Dorian responds with a fireball to his face. It does its job, and he's reasonably sure he isn't going to be getting back up again.

When he hears Roderick's pained groan, Dorian is on his feet in a heartbeat. He helps him up but curses when his hands catch the limited light and he sees them stained, wishing to the Maker he was better at healing magic.

"You're going to be okay," he says because it'd cruel not to even if it was a lie. "You're going to be okay..."

"What are you doing?" Roderick asked, clearly struggling. "Leave me. That can't be the last of them."

Dorian snorted. "What? After all the trouble we just went through staying alive? Like that's going to happen." He drawled once he manages to get him on his feet.

"Don't be foolish," he gasped. "You'd be risking your life for a dead man."

"Seeing as you're still talking, you just contradicted yourself."

Roderick gives him a exasperated look. "For how much longer?"

If Dorian was anything, he was stubborn. "Let's be pleasantly surprised."

Luckily, the chantry isn't far from where they are, and when they get there, there are more than enough people to help.

He gets more than a few passing glances, but none of that seems to matter, as the next moment, there's an almighty commotion, and Dorian looks up in time to see a massive boulder hit the side of the mountain on the other side of the valley.

The resulting avalanche is devastating for the enemy, wiping off whole units as it went in a single crushing sweep.

There's a moment where everyone's watching in stunned silence until the realization dawned.

Roderick, grievously injured as he may be, stares out in front of himself, speechless. "She did it... the Seeker actually did it..."

The next, a loud roar of approval and cheers broke out around them, relieved laughter and triumph temporarily drowning out the din, until-

A black shape against the night sky suddenly catches Dorian's eye in the distance.

"What's that?" he asks, and then, louder and pointing when he saw it again, "That right there - did anyone see that?"

Somewhere behind him, someone, having heard him, "I did. It looks like it's flying."

Another heartbeat and another voice speaks up, louder still and twice as alarmed all of a sudden, "There! It's coming closer."

The very real, very loud _roar_ does a superb job cutting any premature celebration short, not to speak of the balls of literal hellfire that rains down moments later.

They barely have time to comprehend what's happening when things start exploding.

The screaming starts up again right then, and all Dorian can do is watch helplessly as a dragon tears his last hope apart.

* * *

 **Redcliffe**

* * *

 _They didn't get very far before they ran into trouble._

 _"Halt-" the words were barely out of the Brute's mouth when a bolt of electricity went through his plated chest, and he keeled over, dead._

 _Hand still stretched out in front of him, Felix was breathing hard, but whether it was from the running or the magic, Dorian honestly couldn't say. He looked frightfully pale, but as much as Dorian wanted to slow down for his friend's sake, they couldn't linger._

 _"So much for not drawing attention." He remarked dryly, fire already curling around his fingers when they spotted three swordsmen rounding the corner, weapons drawn._

 _"Dorian!"_

 _There was a hum of energy and a flash of light out of the corner of his eye, and when Dorian looked down, he was startled to see it was the talisman he was still holding, was reacting to the magic in the air._

 _It burned in his hand, and he reacted without thinking, pushing Felix out of the way just as another flash of light erupted._

 _The talisman clattered to the ground and Dorian felt himself black out for a moment as the entire world spun and tumbled around him._

 _He hit the floor with a grunt._

 _Temporarily disoriented, once he picked himself up, he froze when he looked up, recognizing the hallway he was in, and yet..._

 _"Felix?" he tried, getting up onto his knees, suddenly all too aware that he was on his own._

 _He had a very bad feeling, which only intensified when the implication of what may have happened sunk in._

 _"Oh... bollocks." He muttered, standing up as his mind raced, weighing options for a way out of the mess he found himself in._

 _The unnatural quiet struck him in that moment, but it wasn't that alone that unnerved him; the air just seemed different, like it did before a thunderstorm, and even then-_

 _He'd think about it later, first things first, he rationalized, he needed details, dates, anything that would give him a sense of where -when- he was. And then... well, he'd get to that after, too. He'd always been good of thinking on his feet._

 _He wasn't exactly where he'd been (displacement and all that, he reasoned) but from the general dampness and sheer amount of metal he was seeing against the walls, Dorian surmised he was in the dungeons._

 _When he heard footsteps coming from the staircase up ahead, he on his feet in a matter of heartbeats and hid around the nearest, darkest corner._

 _Pressing himself against the wall as tightly as he could, he prayed to the Maker that his rapid breathing wouldn't give him away as he listened to the guards approach._

 _Fortunately, they didn't seem to notice him as they pass, and once they were a safe distance away, he slipped away, keeping as quiet as he could._

 _He kept at it like this, admittedly more than a little on edge and beyond horrified at what he saw on the way, until he came at another set of stairs, one leading up, and another leading deeper down. He was about to go up when he heard more footsteps and backtracked as fast as he could._

 _The way down wasn't lit save for the occasional burst of sickening red light that came from the crystals, and Dorian had to catch himself from stumbling several times. He wasn't exactly quiet, too much in a hurry for that, but he did get to the bottom in record time._

 _...Once he did, however, what -who- he found in a cell there, temporarily drove the need to get away from his mind._

 _Half-encased in lyrium, he recognized the Grand Enchanter as she stood hunched over and leaned heavily against the wall._

 _She must have heard him, and when she turned her head, Dorian was struck by the red in elven woman's eyes._

 _"Another Magister?" she asked listlessly. "Have you come to taunt me as well?"_

 _"Grand Enchanter..." he began, horrified. "What- what happened to you? How are you-?"_

 _She looked too tired to be wholly resentful. "You use that title like it still means something." She said as her head simply slumped against the wall. "Leave me be... Allow what little peace is left to me. It... won't be long now."_

 _Before Dorian could say anything else, there was the distinct feeling of a blade being pressed against his back._

 _"What are you doing down here?" a voice demanded, and Dorian turned his head to see the guards he thought he'd slipped standing right behind him._

 _Bollocks._

 _The guard with his sword out held it higher when he didn't respond, and Dorian could feel the steel brush against his spine none too gently. "Oi, are you deaf? I said, what are you doing down here?"_

 _The other guard, the more observant of the pair, apparently, stopped him. "Hang on, look at him - look at his clothes. None of the statues down here dress like that." He said before addressing him directly. "Are you a magister?"_

 _Under normal circumstances, the title would have set Dorian's teeth on edge - this was not normal circumstances, and he nodded instead. "You could say that."_

 _"I haven't seen you around before." The second guard said slowly, the metal helmet completely obscuring his expression. "Did you come here with the Herald?"_

 _If ever there was a time for thinking on his feet, now was that time. "Ah... yes, I'm afraid I must have gotten separated. Sorry about that, honest mistake." He said and cleared his throat when the guard (who's face wasn't covered) raised an eyebrow at him. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll just be getting back then..."_

 _The second guard stopped him when he drew his own sword. "Afraid I can't let you do that, mate. You're not supposed to be down here even if you are one of the mage lords." He said and looked at his partner. "Think he's lying?"_

 _The first shrugged. "Dunno, but it's our heads if he's not."_

 _"It's our heads if he is."_

 _"What do we do with him, then?"_

 _"Take him to the Herald? If he's not who he says he is, let her deal with it."_

 _The first nodded before glaring at him. "You heard him. Move."_

 _While, normally, dealing with two armed men was child's play, Dorian could recognize a clear disadvantage when it was staring him in the face and very much capable of gutting him where he stood._

 _Faced with little choice, then, he let them lead him back out. He didn't dare look back at the Grand Enchanter despite his mind reeling about what he'd just seen._

 _The guards took him through the dungeon up to a higher level, and despite himself, what he saw, what he heard along the way piqued a morbid sort of curiosity which only mounted with every step he took. He desperately wanted to ask, but knew it was better to keep his mouth shut and watch for an opening._

 _He never got a chance, and they eventually made him stop in front of a cell._

 _When they opened the door, Dorian looked up and blinked in surprise when he saw and took in who standing there. He'd picture the 'Herald' differently from the slender, hooded woman - an elf if the stature was anything to go on - that stood in front of him. Aside from the fact that the air seemed to hum in her presence and the twisted bow on her back, there was nothing inherently intimidating about her._

 _He quickly changed his mind when she turned around._

 _"What?" she asked as she set aside the bloodstained notes she'd been busy with on the table next to her._

 _While soft spoken and clearly bored, there was something about her voice that seemed to carry like an echo through his head; clear and cold and poignant._

 _The guards shifted uncomfortably when she stepped closer, and that hum from before turned into a faint, tangible prickle down his spine._

 _"Uh, begging your pardon, m'lady," the first said, clearly nervous, "but we found him in the dungeons. He... he said he's with you."_

 _The part of her face that wasn't hidden behind the black hood revealed full, bloodless lips, a dark green line of a tattoo that ran down her chin, and faint, luminous red veins that crisscrossed over the vine-like pattern on gaunt cheekbones. He'd seen those kinds of markings before, but couldn't place them._

 _Despite not seeing her eyes, Dorian could almost feel the weight of her stare when she looked at him._

 _"Did he now?" she asked slowly, her tone making something in him cringe._

 _The second cleared his throat awkwardly. "I... take it that's not the case then?"_

 _"Where did you say you found him?"_

 _"The dungeons. He was talking to the former Grand Enchanter." The second went on and held his weapon at the ready. "Shall we kill him?"_

 _"No." She said and stepped up to him. "I'd rather he speak for himself."_

 _Dorian felt his stomach drop and his spine stiffen as she reached up and tilted his chin up with a glowing green hand that shone through the dark steel of her clawed gauntlet. He was rooted in the spot, the touch there making his skin go numb._

 _"Who are you?"_

 _"He didn't give a-" the first guard began._

 _She stopped him midsentence, her voice like a shard of ice. "I don't recall speaking to you."_

 _It spoke of just how intimidating she was when the guard - standing taller, and broader than she was - seemed to diminish under her hidden stare and Dorian found himself impressed in spite of it all._

 _When she turned her head back to look at him, he steeled himself._

 _"Give me your name."_

 _He raised his head, trying to come off as more confident than he actually was. "Dorian Pavus."_

 _"Pavus...? That sounds familiar." She said vaguely as she dragged the sharp, armoured tip her thumb along his jaw, leaving a faint prickle of blood rising to the surface in its wake. "I've never seen you before, Dorian. What were you doing in the dungeons?"_

 _Oh, well, if he was going to die anyway, he might as well get to the point. "Finding answers."_

 _"To what questions?"_

 _"My own."_

 _This seemed to pique her interest somewhat. "You're honest."_

 _"One of my defining attributes, I'm told." And it really was._

 _She tilts her head. "Then why lie at all?"_

 _He couldn't help himself. He really, really couldn't. "I can't say I trusted your men enough to stay their hand if I didn't. They seem to lack basic manners."_

 _He could practically feel the glares directed at the back of his neck, but didn't care about that in favour of the slight, upwards perk of the woman's lips._

 _"Herald-" the guard - Dorian couldn't be bothered which one - started again._

 _"Quiet." she said offhandedly, not even bothering to look at the men before dropping her hand and touched his shoulder. "Before I decide what to do with you, Dorian, you have to tell me something first."_

 _He swallowed. "What's that?"_

 _She leaned in to whisper next to his ear. "What colour is the sky?"_

 _Of all the questions he'd expected, that wasn't one of them. "What?"_

 _Her grip on his shoulder turned to steel, the gauntlet digging into his skin. "Answer the question."_

 _He winced. "...Blue?"_

 _Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the slow, wicked smile that spread over her face._

 _It then dawned on him quite suddenly that there was a very real he was going to die, and that the elven woman in front of him was going to be the one to kill him._

 _"Have you told anyone about this?" she asked, addressing the guards again._

 _"No, Herald."_

 _"Good." He saw her hand move. "It'll make this easier."_

 _For a moment Dorian thought he saw his life flash in front of his eyes when she suddenly yanked him to the side and pushed him down._

 _He landed hard on the ground for a second time that day and looked up to see her draw her bow. But instead of a shot to the heart like he expected, he watched as she suddenly turned on the guards, planting an arrow each in the exposed area by their throats._

 _They never saw it coming._

 _Neither did he, and he sat there, speechless as she then stowed her bow in a single fluid motion before offering her hand out to him._

 _He could just stare at her. "You killed them."_

 _She snorted, and he didn't need to see her face to know she was rolling her eyes. "Oh, well spotted." She said, all traces of boredom gone from her voice. "Now, I don't mean to rush you, but we are a bit pressed for time."_

 _Hesitant as he may have been, Dorian let her help him back on his feet. "But..._ _ **why**_ _?"_

 _"Obviously they might have tried to get in my way. Committing high treason tends to make people react in bizarre ways." She said matter-of-factly as she looked him over. "Can you run?"_

 _He nodded slowly. He had_ so _many questions. "If needed."_

 _"Good, because if any of us have any hope on surviving what's coming next, you better keep up. Things are going to get a_ lot _more exciting from here on out."_

* * *

 _ **The Herald**_

* * *

Confident in his impending victory, her master sends her into the field, loosening his iron control over her enough so that she can act.

After all, what use is an attack dog if you couldn't let it off its leash?

 _You don't want to do this._

No, she doesn't.

She doesn't see the faces, doesn't register the ash or cold on her skin, nor the smell of burning pine and the bloodshed. The only constant comes from the repetition - draw, aim, fire, breathe; draw, aim, fire, move.

 _You don't have to do this._

Draw, aim, fire, _move_.

 _You can break away._

Draw, aim, fire, _breathe_.

Despite the avalanche, the mages who remain cut a clear path to the village; she keeps to the dark places on the cliff overlooking the village, watching as the Venatori breach the main gate and push the Inquisition back.

From her position, she looks on from the tree line when the doors to the chantry building on the hill open with a crash, and watches the Seeker as she steps out.

Flanked by a mage woman, another warrior and what she could only assume was left of the Inquisition's forces, the dark haired woman is fearless when she meets the mages head on.

She doesn't intervene, choosing instead to watch the one who would dare to stand against her master and resents her ability to do so, so visibly.

 _You can, too. You have a choice._

She grits her teeth. "Be quiet."

The traitorous thought has an unfortunate side effect as the phantom hand around her neck suddenly tightens again and she has to catch herself against a tree until the light-headedness passes.

 _Let me help._

The world spins.

She shuts her eyes tight, trying to breathe. "Go... away."

As the hand slackens again, and she manages to catch her breath, she happens to look up in time to see a second, smaller group made up of two elves and a qunari warrior leave the chantry building.

They don't go to join the Seeker as she charges back out through the main gates, and she watches as they take the path leading through the side of the village and towards the last, standing trebuchet.

 _You are strong enough._

No.

She isn't.

It doesn't take long before she follows.

* * *

End Part 1  
 **-To Be Continued-**

* * *

A/N: So, the next part is done (along with the next two chapters), I'll post the next chapter in a week or so, but I won't be posting the others until I've finished with two more chapters - this story is taking longer than I anticipated, but I'm super happy with the way things are progressing.

Until next time,  
GoddessofDawn out.


	4. Chapter 3: Part 2

A/N: ...Okay, so I changed my mind . Here's the next chapter. I'm so bored at my job right now, so I'm posting this to be less so. Many happy Fridays to you all.

Disclaimer: EA and Bioware are the people you're looking for.

* * *

 **Like a Shot from the Dark**

* * *

 **-THREE-**

 _Good Intentions_

* * *

Part 2

* * *

 _"I'm not evil to the core/What I shouldn't do I will fight;_

 _I know I'm emotional/What I wanna save I will try._

 _I know who I truly am/I truly have a chance,_

 _Tomorrow I'll switch the beat/To avoid yesterday's dance."_

 _"Yo, this song will never be on the radio -_

 _Even if my clique were to pick and the people were to vote,_

 _It's a few, the proud, and the , you, bulletproof in black like a funeral,_

 _The world around us is burning but we're so cold -It's the few, the proud, and the emotional."_

\- **Twenty One Pilots** , _Fairly Local_ Lyrics

* * *

 _ **The Muscle**_

* * *

The plan - if you could call it that - was a simple one.

Well, supposed to be, anyway.

"Are you sure you don't need any assistance, Iron Bull?" Solas asks, looking more tense than usual.

Cassandra may have bought them some time, but even then, it was anyone's guess how long until the enemy caught on to what they were doing.

Dragons and raging cultists tended to screw with timing and all.

The qunari waves him off. "No worries, I got this."

Normally being sidelined while others did the fighting didn't sit well with him, but what he _did_ approve of was the Seeker's strategy; after all, what's not to love of a plan that involved killing a whole bunch of Vints in one fell swoop in the coolest way possible?

Bull's a lot of things, and an optimist is one of them.

Besides, firing the big thing that's gonna drop a mountain on them in the first place? That's just an unexpected, _awesome_ bonus.

Solas doesn't look too confident. "Did the Seeker happen to mention how she and the others are escaping?"

"Not in that many words, but she say something about falling back into the village once we get the machine aimed. If I had to guess, I'd say we'd have to meet them when we do."

"And then?"

Sera snorts loudly, standing with her back turned to them as she keeps watch. "What do you think, genius? We run."

Bull notices the way the mage's mouth twitches as he lets out a short huff. "Wonderful."

She glares at him over her shoulder. "Oi, stop your snark and keep your eyes open, magey. If I get turned into dragon food because you were too busy blabbing, I'll -" Whatever she's about to say gets cut off with a sudden rush of air and a dull thud near her feet.

She looks down and her eyes widen as she sees the lit arrow there.

"Oh, shit."

Sera manages to scramble out of the way just in time as the arrow explodes, but is caught in the blast and lands on the ground hard.

"Sera-!" Solas calls out, alarmed.

Without stopping with what he was doing, Bull's looks up to see her sprawled out awkwardly on her front.

She sits up with some effort, turning around slightly only to let out a hiss of pain. "Shite, my leg-" she begins, only to cut herself off with a yelp.

His grip falters when he notices a woman in black step out of the shadows.

His first thought was how no one see her, while the second snagged at the hood that covered most of her face. He can't mull on it, however, and the thought breaks off completely as she then draws her bow and points it directly at Sera.

At her range, she couldn't miss.

"Aw, _crap_ ," he swears, practically shoving himself away from the mechanism as he draws his axe. "Take the wheel, get this thing aimed."

Solas doesn't argue with him and nods sharply as he braces against the sudden weight. "Understood. Go."

He didn't need to be told twice.

She sees him coming, however, but instead of ducking out of the way like he'd expected, the woman waits until he's right there before drawing several arrows at once and _leaps_ back, releasing all of them.

He has enough time to avoid getting turned into pincushion but not fast enough to avoid not getting shot at all and there's a sharp sting as one of the arrows leaves a deep, burning cut on his left shoulder.

Doesn't matter, though, and he still manages to put himself between Sera and the stranger when he straightens up again.

"You okay?" he asks, looking away only to see if the blonde was still intact.

She waves off his concern almost frantically. "Don't look at me, look at her! Look at her!"

He doesn't understand her reaction until he turns, and despite the fact that he could tower over her, there was _something_ about her that made him think back about what the templar told them in Therinfal.

The air 'shuddered', huh? Understatement.

Still didn't matter.

"So..." he begins, rolling his shoulders back. "Set any more fires lately?"

She answers with an arrow and has a second already drawn by the time he deflects the first.

Well... okay then. If that was how things were going to be, he could only hope she didn't disappoint.

* * *

 _ **The Mind**_

* * *

Solas only catches glimpses of the fight out of the corner of his eye, hears the sound heavy footsteps and slashing steel meeting thin air, lighter footsteps and the occasional explosion, none of which made him stop what he was doing.

He manages to get the trebuchet into position and turns just in time to see Bull lower his weapon. They hadn't even been fighting for so long, but from the little he can make out, the heavy way the qunari was breathing was a cause of some concern.

Bull seemed to sway on his feet just a bit, massive shoulders heaving with exertion. "Stop dancing and... and fight." He growls, the words coming out slurred.

Perhaps he imagines it, but there's a moment where the thin line on the woman's lips turns into a shadow of a smile as she lowers her bow.

Bull takes a step closer and stumble as he does, his grip around his axe faltering enough that it falls to the ground.

"Bull-!" Sera calls out, clearly panicking.

There's a definite slur to his speech at that point. "What...?" A whistle catches his attention, and when Bull looks up, bleary-eyed and dazed, he sees the woman twirling another arrow between her fingers, it's odd green tip gleaming in the limited light.

She looks away, and it takes a minute for Bull to realize she's staring at the cut on his arm and another for him to realize why.

Much to Solas's surprise, he lets out a rumbling chuckle. "Huh... good one..."

She raises her face just so, the almost smile clearly visible as she does. Stowing her bow, instead of speaking, she simply reaches out and pushes against his chest, the gentle shove enough to send him backwards.

Solas makes up his mind the second the warrior hits the ground.

* * *

 _ **The Herald**_

* * *

The elven girl on the ground stares at her with wide eyes, fear written painfully clear over her face.

"What- what did you do to him?" she demands. Brave, considering she isn't armed.

She allows a brief thought towards the qunari at her feet - he was still breathing.

The poison she used on him wasn't lethal, but he wouldn't be getting on his feet anytime soon without the antidote.

 _"Why didn't you kill him? You were holding back."_

Good question. Irrelevant though.

She ignores the incessant whisper in favour of what catches her eye several feet away.

She goes over.

The girl panics and scrambles backwards, not getting very far with her hurt leg. "Y-you get away from me!"

She surprises her when she passes her entirely and kneels down in front of the discarded long bow on the ground behind her.

Straightening up, she traces a discolored thumb over the spine, over the star-burst pattern at the grip and pauses only when one of the vines gently brushes against her pulse and seems to wrap itself around her wrist.

It was warm, pleasantly so, and for a single moment, she feels safe, reassured by the familiar weight in her hands and the knowledge of her own capability.

 _"'Never forget. Never submit.'"_ That damn voice whispers in the back of her mind. _"He said that before you left."_

She stops abruptly, the breath knocked out of her without the courtesy of a warning.

 _"You both laughed about afterwards because neither of you knew how to say anything else. You were happy to go but sad to leave; you promised you would see them all again."_

Her hands tremble.

 _"You can."_

If she had a response, the sudden discharge that rings out through the air violently shoves it out of her mind. She only has time to feel a tingle of magic down her spine when her instincts kick in and she jumps out of the way as a bolt of lightning struck inches from where she'd been standing.

The elf girl's arms shoots over her head in an attempt to shield herself once the bolt struck mere inches away. " _OI_! Watch it! If you're gonna use that at all, learn how to aim!"

It takes a moment, but she realizes it's not her she was yelling at but the mage she sees when she looks up.

By the look on his face and the lightning building in his hands, he doesn't look like he's about to hold back.

It's okay, though, she thinks while clutching the bow just a little bit tighter for reassurance - she isn't going to, either.

* * *

 _ **The Mind**_

* * *

Under normal circumstances, the hollow, almost smirk that tugged at the woman's lips would have been cause enough for him to go on the defensive, focus on keeping his barriers raised and only lash out if necessary.

This was not normal circumstances, and the time for caution has passed. With the trebuchet aimed, all that was left was to wait for Cassandra and for at least one of them to fire the machine.

And since he's the only one still standing - literally - that duty now fell to him.

He strikes first, not giving himself enough time to hesitate before doing so again.

Neither of the bolts he rains down strike true, however, missing the woman by mere inches as she moves out of the way with an unnerving grace. She reacts swiftly the moment the opportunity presents itself, levelling her shot in line with his heart in the brief pause between where he catches his breath.

He manages to raise a wall of ice in front of him just as her arrow strike; he grits his teeth and braces himself when it explodes on impact and shatters his makeshift barrier.

He only has a heartbeat to regain his bearing, but just as he raises his hand with every intention of throwing another arch of lightning at her, something unexpected and breathtaking happens.

Perhaps it's their diminished proximity, perhaps it's his magic and desperation working in tandem, but something seems to lock into place just then as the woman's left hand suddenly flares up in a burst of green.

Out of what must have been shock, the woman's step falters as she grabs her hand like it's been burned. All else temporarily forgotten, she tears the glove off of her hand and tosses it aside, revealing a glowing mark on her palm.

The familiarity of both it and the magic running rampant in the air strikes him just then. But, before he can thing about it, the woman looks up at him.

"What... What did you _do_?"

That voice... though quiet and hoarse from underuse, is ominous enough that Solas is under no delusion that she would kill him if given the chance.

It's also familiar enough and the realization of why that is leaves him chilled to the bone. "You..."

The next thing he knows, he's shoved back violently until his back hits the wooden frame behind him, his own staff used to pin him against the side of the trebuchet.

He's only vaguely aware of Sera yelling at him but doesn't think on it when he looks up and finds the woman's suddenly _there_ , very much in his personal space and looming over him.

"I said, _what. Did. You. Do_?" she demands, her chest heaving, and it's only then that Solas understands that the edge in her voice is more akin to steadily growing hysteria than actual menace.

Despite his current position and racing mind, he keeps his expression a blank, calm mask. "Peace. I have no wish to fight you."

The mark lights up enough to catch his eye and put him on edge as she bares her teeth at him. " _Liar_." She hisses, her condemnation a slap.

He hears Sera voice in the background over the roar of chaos, demanding why he wasn't moving, telling him to get away, get away _right now._

He ignores her in favour of the woman in front of him. "Listen to me," he says, keeping his voice low but insistent. "For your own sake, I suggest you control yourself."

"And for _your_ sake, I suggest you _don't_ tell me what to do." She snarls and pushes down harder against his staff, making it harder for him to breathe. "I've had _enough_ of being ordered around and expected to obey like some trained bitch."

This time, the mark flares violently enough to momentarily blind him, and, from pained noise he hears her trying to suppress in the back of her throat, he understands she isn't immune to its effects. How she even managed to survive in the first place-

" _Lethallan_ , please." He says with some difficulty, changing tactics and counting his words. "The mark is reacting negatively because your emotions are getting the better of you. My magic can help, but then I need your cooperation."

Over her shoulder, he can see that Sera had made her way over to Bull's side and trying to shake the qunari awake.

The woman's breathing is heavier than before, her voice raw when she finally speaks again. "Why would you help me?"

Because I've seen what's been done to you and it's my fault you're here in the first place; that my oversight led to everything that's happened, _is_ happening, he doesn't say.

Instead, Solas tries to straighten up, not getting very far as her steel grip holds firm. "Because if what I suspect is true, then you may be our last... our only chance at stopping this madness from spreading any further."

That much is true, at least.

There is a pause, and in that pause, she calms down enough for the Mark to settle - if just in that moment. "...I have no reason to believe anything you say." She whispers and although her words are damming, they're hesitant.

He presses on. "Allow me prove it. As a token of good faith and of my conviction."

Something unheard seems to catch her attention and for a moment she turns her head away and listens. He notices the subtle way the tattooed line on her throat moves as she swallows, letting out short breath before looking back at him.

"Very well..." she says quietly, slackening her grip on his staff enough for him to move his hands - and breathe. "Show me your conviction, then."

He only has enough time to take a breath before he raises his hand and reaches out with his magic, brushing against the mark.

It's like touching an open flame.

He grits his teeth, concentrates on steadying the flow, reigning in the rampant arches of ancient magic as it rebelled even against his touch.

The process is enough to leave him breathless, his heart racing, but somehow-

Something snaps in place again and the woman steps back abruptly enough he almost stumbles from the absence of her support.

She flexes her hand, pale lips parting in surprise as she stares at him. "Wait - that magic... You... You're that mage - the dreamer in the Fade. But... _how_? I-I thought I was hallucinating."

The questions that sentence alone raised is enough to make him want to forget what's going on around them and just _ask_.

But no, not now. "It's only a temporary solution, but it's the best I can do for now." He murmurs. "If we had more time, I would insist on studying your Mark in more detail."

She straightens with some effort. "To what end?"

He reaches up to his chest and rubs at the bruise he can feel forming there. "With luck? I might be able to see if I can reverse the effects of the orb."

The woman's shoulders stiffens, and it's then that he realizes his mistake.

She raises her head and he catches a glimpse of green eyes in the shadow of her hood, narrowed and piercing.

"I never mentioned an orb."

* * *

 ** _The_** _ **Herald**_

* * *

She's tempted to draw the knife she keeps on her belt and pin him again, made to do just that when an echo of a roar from the mountains violently shoves the idea out of her mind.

 _"He knows, he knows. You broke his hold, his grip over you. He_ _ **knows**_ _-"_

Ice cold dread runs down her spine as her head snaps towards the source, beyond the palisade wall and burning trees, her eyes catching a shadow against the starless sky.

" _Shit_." She swears viciously under her breath and turns back to face the mage. "You all need to leave. _Now_."

In the back of her mind, she thrills at the sensation of finally being back in control again, is almost drunk off its power.

Free. Free. Free.

The mage stares at her incredulously. "Us, but not you?"

She glares back challengingly. "You're not fit to stand against what's coming."

"And _you_ are?"

Whatever he did to the mark on her palm smoothed over the jagged edges she's been struggling to keep under control, the same brutal edges her 'master' had used against her - whatever he did...

Free. Free. _Free_.

Her eye dart past him and settles on the siege engine looming over them - by its position, the direction it's aimed at, it doesn't take long for her to figure out what they intended to do with it.

"It's clear you had a plan in mind." She says, point-blank ignoring his question. "I might as well see it through while you and your leader fall back."

Blue eyes narrow at her. "And what of your escape?"

Damned if she knew. She doesn't get to answer as such, however, as just then there's a sudden commotion away from them, down the path that lead back into village. Sure enough, as they turn to look the main gate burst open, and the Seeker, her companions, and what was left of the soldiers she had with her, came running.

Among the confusion, she could hear the woman call out to the three at the trebuchet.

She looks at the qunari again, now stirring and on his knees at least, but still not wholly functioning.

Impressive. She'd have to make a note of the dosage next time she dealt with the horned giants.

Despite her stiff fingers, her unmarked hand goes to her belt, takes out a small glass vial before tossing it at the mage with a whistle to get his attention. To his credit, he catches it easily enough.

"The antidote." She states, seeing his raised eyebrow. "It works quick, but you better give it to him now if you're going to outrun the slide."

She then notices the bow near his feet, and for a moment she considers going over to scoop it up herself.

 _Never forget. Never submit._

"You should take that as well." She says stiffly. "Your friend will have better use for it."

The mage hesitates but, again to his credit, does as she asks.

Their eyes meet and she softens, if just for the sake of a far-off memory. "...Take care of it."

She doesn't have time to think about the question written clearly over his face, not when another roar rings out once again, loud and clear and _close_.

"Your escape-" he says again.

"I'll manage." It's a lie, a bold-faced lie, but she doesn't think about the specifics, can't allow herself to. "But, Dreamer?"

He looks startled at the title.

"I'm owed answers. The next time we meet, you will give them to me."

It isn't a request, and despite his thinning lips he nods all the same. "Understood."

"Good. Now, go."

She doesn't watch him as he makes his way over to his friends, doesn't watch him struggle to get everyone on their feet or how they leave - doesn't see the way he hangs back for a moment to look at her over his shoulder.

No... she doesn't see any of it, keeping her eyes to the sky instead.

"You should have gone with them."

She smiles a little despite herself and shrugs. "Probably."

Pale eyes blink at her from under the wide brim of an outrageous hat. "He wasn't lying."

She spares him a single glance. "About what specifically?"

"He wants to help you. He feels responsible."

She snorts. "He knows more than he's letting on, but I find anything else hard to believe."

The phantom in her step, the unwanted voice in her head - _Cole_ \- goes quiet for a moment.

"...It doesn't mean it isn't true."

She feels the gust of air before the roar, and when they turn, she steels herself as the dragon touches down with enough force to send a tremor through the ground.

Cole trembles slightly at the sight of it, but whether it's in awe or fear she isn't sure. "She's bigger like this..."

He's not wrong.

She reaches behind herself, taking up the black bow on her back once again, stepping in front of him. "Stay behind me."

The dragon turns its massive, blighted head towards them, teeth bared and eyes blazing with hate, that aura of unholy sickliness almost enough to make her falter.

Almost. Not quite, though.

 _Free. Free. Free._

She turns her face up, meeting its burning stare unflinchingly.

"C'mon," she snarls, baring her teeth back at it. "Try and eat me now, you bastard - _c'mon_!"

The dragon growls menacingly and strikes, its head moving like a snake.

She aims for its eye, manages to shoot it off when the dragon rights itself - the arrow doesn't land where it was supposed to and only serves to enrage it more. As a result, the beast rears back and lets out an ear-splitting shriek that makes her shrink back in herself, the world replaced with ringing.

Over it all, she hears Cole whisper behind her. "They're through..."

Whatever happened to be in its way shattered, crates splintering under the dragon's immense weight as it surges forward. She only has enough time to see a lit arrow pierce the sky well beyond the village before she grabs Cole by the wrist to yank them both out of the way.

She bites back the vicious swear on the tip of her tongue, narrowly avoiding its tail as she backed them out of the way, out of the dragon's reach.

Her eyes land the mechanism at the base of the trebuchet; it's still intact and just out of reach, and she makes up her mind.

She fires an explosive arrow - her last - at its feet when it makes to lunge at her again. The explosion is enough to make it stumble. It's not enough to stop it completely but the beast's distracted enough, however, and she sprints towards the siege engine as fast as she can.

She stops only to kick the mechanism free and watches as the catapult launches the massive boulder in its sling towards the mountain - hitting it dead-centre.

She only has a moment to admire her handiwork, to watch the boulder set off a chain reaction; only a moment to panic when everything comes crashing down on her for a second time in recent memory as ice and snow and rock come sliding down in a destructive wave.

Sensing impending doom, the dragon lets out a final snarl before taking off back into the air.

She runs in the only direction left to her - only vaguely aware that Cole seemed to have vanished - the cold literally nipping at her heels when, in the next heartbeat, the ground gives way as it seems to swallow her whole.

Oblivion comes only after a thunderous roar sounds overhead and a familiar sense of falling down... down... down...

* * *

 **-To Be Continued-**


End file.
